


Scorched Metal

by Dildo_Swaggins_T_Baggins



Series: Transformers Royal AU [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Family Secrets, Forbidden Love, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Not Beta Read, Orion/Optimus I dumb and i love him, Road Trips, Secret Relationship, Suffer Fuckers, the girls are fighting, weird family trees
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2021-04-15
Packaged: 2021-04-24 21:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 58,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22238155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dildo_Swaggins_T_Baggins/pseuds/Dildo_Swaggins_T_Baggins
Summary: There's a lot of rules to wear a crown, don't slouch, speak clearly, hold your helm up high, don't offend any of your allies, don't become romantically attached to anyone who serves you.That last one is a bit harder then you think.
Relationships: Chromedome/Rewind (Transformers), Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet, Everyone Fucks - Relationship, Megatron/Optimus Prime, Megatron/Orion Pax, Other ships aren't the main focus but are still there, Rodimus/Thunderclash, Toxic Overlord/Thunderclash
Series: Transformers Royal AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923310
Comments: 230
Kudos: 207





	1. Two Then One

**Author's Note:**

> A royal/knight au where:  
Megatron: Is alone  
Orion: Books it  
Optimus: Is a grumpy man  
Ultra Magnus: Dying  
Thunderclash: Isn't himself  
Rodimus: Is having a very bad time  
Deadlock: Just wants that medic dick  
Ratchet: Want's that royal dick  
Rewind: Is lonely  
Chromedome: So no head?  
Brainstorm: YOU'LL NEVER FIND ME! *Flies right to his hideout in day light*  
Perceptor: Can and will shoot you  
Overlord: Commits murder, shadow-play, war crimes, and tax fraud

The echo of metal on metal filled the small sand pit, two sets of peds danced elegantly around one another, kicking up small clouds of dust. The sparks flew off the dull swords, flashing off their optics. Red met blue and the two frames collided, their swords locked in a heated battle of tension between them.

The gray frame shoved the blue and red one back, he stumbled but regained his footing. Moving far faster than his foe, kicking the knee struts of the gray frame, he landed on his aft, but his sword still pointed up in a defensive position.

Their frames vented, fans filling the training room, their session ended kilks ago, and yet neither wanted to admit who won. The gray frame was the first to break from his stone cold personal, grinning. “Smart using my own weight against me.” He shoved his sword into the sand pit and heaved himself up, shaking the sand out from his plates. 

The blue and red mech huffed grabbing both weapons. “I’m glad that you can throw mechs off like their nothing.” He set the blades back and removed a few protective plates off his own. He rolled his shoulder joints, knowing they were stiff from the training. “Any poor assassin that tries to kill you is going to have one pit of a time.”

There was a slap on his back. “Please, Orion you know that you’ll cut anyone down who dares to even glare at me.”

Orion rolled his optics. “It’s wise of your sire to train you in self defence, you are the prince of a nation and should be prepared for anything.”

He laughed. “Well I think we’ll be prepared for anything.” His arm wove under his garuds, pulling him away from the wall of weapons. “A few oil cakes?”

Orion yanked his arm away from the prince. “Megatronus,” He hissed pulling the teller mech down. “Not in public.” He snapped.

Megatronus frowned, no more like pouted. “Orion.” He whined, his fans still roaring.

“Fine,” Orion yanked him down, cupping his helm and pulling him in for a kiss. His engines roared and his digits squirmed between plates. Finally he released Megatronus, watching the prince’s handsome face melt into a pleased doopy smile. “Happy now?”

Megatronus vented. “More than you’ll ever know.”

They crossed the crystal gardens, waving at a few of the servants who tended to the purple amethysts. Orion always alert, sword and blaster on his hips, finals always twitching. To most mechs he seemed ready to pounce on anything that moved. But to Megatronus Orions was only half paying attention, one final was always cocked towards him, Orion had a slower pace, and his struts weren’t tight.

“Sire says I’ll be inheriting the throne before I’m to be bonded, his spark is weakening.” Megatronus shrugged rubbing his neck wires. He was too young to lead, much too young to even think about bonding, and far too young to lose his sire.

Orion paused and rested a servo on Megatronus’ shoulder. “Trust me, you’re ready.”

He hadn’t moved since the send off, finding himself in his sire’s study and hanging his head over the desk. The whole room smelled of his sire, and now it was his room. His spark chamber felt cold and hollow, and the silver and red crown stared at him. A new weight was placed on his neck, much like a chain, perfectly fitted for him. 

There was a soft knock on the door before Orion stepped in, carrying energon in one servo. He didn’t say anything as he set the cubes down, pouring two to the brim and pushing one into Megatronus servo. He pulled a chair around to sit next to Megatronus, resting an arm around the pri-king’s shoulders.

Megatronus downed the energon, staring at the crown. “It’s going to be heavy.”

“I know, but you’re made of stronger stuff.” Orion took his servo and held it in his own, like many times before. “You’re not alone in this.” Orion kissed the side of Megatronus’ neck, trying to comfort him. 

Megatronus turned towards him, kissing him. “I know, I’m glad that I have you by my side.”

It was only 2 cycles into his rain and everything was falling apart. He ran the kingdom far better than his sire, ensuring mech that they would never have to worry about starvation, or shelter. He repaired long forgotten trusts with other nations, such as Vos. And yet his personal life was crumbling under his peds.

A servant has started a rumor that he and his personal guard were interfacing. Normally that wouldn’t bother a ruler, but here it wasn’t a rumor. His kingdom was in an uproar at the rumor, mechs didn’t trust him, and the new found relationship with Vos was strained at the news. If only prince Starscream was ruling now, then that fragger could finally bond with that shuttle and Megatronus wouldn’t be facing this alone. Who says rulers can’t bond with common folk? It’s a dumb rule and everyone knew it. 

Who cares if he was sharing his berth?

Orion was there for him and supported every choice he made, point out the flaws in his plans and reinforcing the final products. If Megatronus died right then and there, there was only one mech he would trust with the kingdom, Orion.

He huffed closing the door to his hab. “Orion?” He called out, he asked Orion to lay low for awhile until the rumors died down. Megatronus poured himself a small cube and paced through the hab. “Orion?” he called once again, stepping into the berthroom, finding the berth well made a few items missing. In the center of the berth was a datapad, he unlocked it and dropped his cube.

He felt sick.

* * *

Orion’s engines roared and he fled the city he called home, his struts aching from tearing over the harsh terrain. He didn’t dare stop until he reached the small village on the border, the peaceful settlement of all sorts of mechs, a trading post. 

His spark ached, he knew Megatronus read the note now, and he knew this was wrong, but it was all he could do. Spread another rumor, then another, make himself the bad guy and the kingdom will be in Megatronus’ favor once again.

Orion drove all night, stopping at the lights that defied the darkness. He ached entering the traveler’s village. They would be gone in a few days, finding another place to set up and trade. He waved to a few mechs and stepped into a medical tent. “I need mods.” 

His spark ached.


	2. A Little Spitfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I give you, the boys.  
Alright so knight aus are always going this weird family tree shit, so yeah Ultra Magnus is Thunderclash's sire. They're not close.  
Man could you imagine Minius being Thunderclash's sire, that tiny fucker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself I would finally update another fic, you know like a liar.  
Also only a tiny bit is betared, please let me know if there's something wrong.

The party was huge, it filled the ballroom wall to wall with mechs. All of them towered over him and he sunk away from it all towards a column. His back plates pressed against the cool stone, as his spark was in his peds. He glanced at his side, Ultra Magnus, who was chatting to the new leader of Vos, Starscream. 

Thunderclash jumped when a digit poked painfully into his protoform, he spun and faced Getaway. Getaway was a duke’s creation, a well known duke who wasn’t technically royalty but no one could picture a party without him. Which sucked for Thunderclash being that Getaway somehow always found him and got him into trouble. 

“Hey Thunders.” Getaway teased, he was a bit older then Thunderclash but only a cycle or two. “Wanna play tag?”

He had to think of a way out of this, there was no way he could escape Getaway’s ruthless chase. “No, I uh...how about hide and seek?” He squeaked.

Getaway hummed, his face plate twisting up. “Okay, I’ll hide.” And he was off, slipping between mechs and vanishing right away.

Thunderclash vented, the crowd only seemed to grow and he felt his tanks twist. Slowly he slipped into the crowd, making his way towards the entrance and ducking behind on of the castle guards. He always respected Optimus but that mech took his job too seriously sometimes. When Thunderclash got lost or fell asleep somewhere he wasn’t supposed to, he knew he would wake up to Optimus fuming over him. However he was learning how to avoid the scary guard. Thunderclash snuck behind the crystal bushes and towards the servants exit, unlocking it with ease and slipping away from the party entirely.

Finally he could vent.

He slumped on the steps and stared at the puddle in the alley way. Slowly his tank started to unturn, and he relaxed, taking in the cool night air. It felt good, there was no pressure, no watchful optics and no pinching of his cheeks.

There was a faint rumble and a waste container fell over.

Thunderclash jumped and squeaked at the bang, he grabbed a broken pot and held it up like a weapon. His tiny frame shaking at what could’ve made such a mess.

The container rocked as something moved inside of it, it grew more and more violent as the lid started to shake.

Thunderclash’s spark was in his helm, racing, he lifted the broken pot over his helm holding his vents.

Then a tiny mechling helm poked out, he didn’t even look at Thunderclash instead and crawled out, tossed off some rubbish and kicked the container. “Fragger didn’t have anything in it.”

“Uh,” Thunderclash started still holding the broken pot over his helm.

The mechling jumped spinning around and glaring at Thunderclash, then the glare softened. “What?”

“What are you doing?”

“Can’t someone get something to fuel without having their helm dented?” He snapped. He was filthy, caked in oils and grime, but he had two finals and his plates were orange, as far as Thunderclash could tell. “What are you doing?”

He lowered the pan, there was no threat, a hungry mechling. A homeless mechling. “I was, uh, getting away from the party.” He pointed behind him to the castle.

The mechling huffed. “Lucky you,”

Thunderclash frowned, he often forgot how privileged he was, he had a sire, a whole castle with servants, body guards, a whole kingdom. And this mech didn’t have energon. “Wait a second, okay?” He snuck back in, through the crystals again, crawling past Optimus, into the packed ballroom, towards the energon goodie table. There he picked a cheap plate and cube, piling goodies onto the plate and filling the cube to the top. Then he grabbed another cube just to be safe and once again cut through the crowds and through the garden, passing A statue of Optimus, and out the servant’s exit. “Hello?”

“I’m still here.” The mechling snapped, he sat on top of a waste container looking up at the stars. He only pulled his optics away when he smelled fresh enegon, his tanks rumbled. 

“Here.” Thunderclash sat down, patting next to him, the mechling climbed down and joined him.

The mechling drank down a whole cube, ate half of the oil cakes and was working on his second cube. “Thanks.” He said with a half full intake

Thunderclash laughed. “Don’t mention it. I’m Thunderclash.”

He shook his helm. “I don’t have a designation.”

Thunderclash frowned. “Creators?”

He shrugged. “Never met them.”

Thunderclash shook his helm, no one should be alone.

The mech shoveled the rest of the goodies into his intake, licking his lip plates. “Wanna play a game?”

Thunderclash perked up at that, for once playing with a mech his own age, and no supervised by anyone. “Sure, do you want to play hide and seek?”

He shook his helm. “Have you ever played pirates?”

“No.”

“Pick up that pan, let’s look for some treasure!”

The rest was a blur to him, they dueled, climbed and found old crystals. He couldn’t help but grin at the strange mechling’s antics, he hadn’t had this much fun in ages. Before he knew it, they found a cozy stop in the alleyway and sat down, talking about nothing. His optics grew heavy and Thunderclash fell into recharge.

“THUNDERCLASH!” Optimus roared.

Thunderclash and his friend jerked awake, both of them screaming and hugging each other. He met the general of his sire’s personal guard, his spark sinking in its case. “Hi.” He mumble.

Optimus hissed glaring at him, then at the mechling in his arms. “You know how dangerous it is to leave the castle without a guard.” He rumbled.

Thunderclash nodded, his arms tightening around his friend.

“So, what’s the problem with him leaving?” The mechling snapped meeting Optimus with his own glare.

Thunderclash shivered.

“The prince could be lost, or kidnapped or worse.” Optimus hissed poking a digit into his friend’s chest. “Where are you creators?”

“I don’t have any, and get your fat digit off of me!” He hissed back, slapping Optimus’ digit.

Optimus never looked so pissed before, reaching for Thunderclash. “Unhand the prince right now or-”

The mechling kicked Optimus in the helm, shattering one of his optics, Optimus howled in pain, clutching his helm. With one servo he scooped up both of them and stomped into the castle. “Fragger, thinks he’s so smart.” Optimus snarled.

The mechling stuck out his tongue. “Frag off.”

“What’s your name, scraplet?” Optimus stomped towards the throne room, energon running down his faceplates.

“Don’t have one.” He wiggled in Optimus arm, kicking at the massive mech.

“I swear you little parasite I’m going to drop kick you into a bath.” Optimus snapped back, his optic leaking energon.

Thunderclash turned to Ultra Magnus waving as his sire rushed over and picked him out of Optimus’ arms. “Optimus don’t hurt him.” He finally squeaked out.

“Fragger’s gonna get a bath.” Optimus said slipping into the servant’s quarters.

* * *

He struggled in the mech’s arms, tearing at the plates. “I don’t need a bath!”

“Yes you do!” Optimus dumped him into a small tub of warm solvent.

He stopped struggling, sinking into the soapy liquid, his tiny engine’s rumbling. “Oh this is nice, it’s the slag.”

Optimus flicked his final. “Stop cursing.”

“Make me!” 

Optimus dunked hot solvent on to him, scrubbing his plates. “Little spitfire, so you don’t have a designation?”

He huffed. “Haven’t needed one yet.” He crossed his arms, this is what he gets for a full tank and a fun night playing pirates?

Two more mechs stepped in, one was much older, both wearing red and white paint. “A homeless sparkling?” The older gapped, then glanced up at Optimus. “Your optic?”

Optimus nodded. “I know it’s unheard of, creators are fiercely protective over their sparklings.” Then he pointed to the dirty sparkling. “Got me.”

He beamed up at the missing optic and Optimus clearly being in pain.

“So we’re doing a check up, okay Ratchet, I’ll need-” The older medic had a tool slapped into his servo. 

The younger medic, Ratchet pulled out a datapad, grunting. “Name?”

“Don’t got one.” He shrugged, his engines rumbling as Optimus got the dirt under his spoiler.

The medics frowned.

“Rodimus, we’ll call him Rodimus until one of his creators picks him up.” Optimus said, lifting him up, setting him down and emptying the tub. Then filling it up again.

“Rodimus.” He said the name, frowning. “I’m not letting this fragger name me.”

Optimus huffed picking him up and dropping him into the tub again. “It’s a good name.”

“Whoever told you that is stupid, it’s a dumb name, almost as dumb as Optimus.” He snapped.

“Well sucks to be you, your name is Rodimus.” He snapped back.

“It’s dumb.” He huffed looking at the two medics, they were taking notes, fast notes. “What, you two haven’t even plugged into my systems yet.”

Ratchet grumbled. “Rodimus is a perfect name, he’ll be a pain in the aft.”

“What does that mean?” Rodimus asked looking up at Optimus.

“You’ll learn about it later.” Optimus said scrubbing him again. “How can a sparkling get this filthy? You’ll never be clean.”

“That’s not very optimistic of you Optimus.” Rodimus laughed.

* * *

It felt like he was being stretched, that someone chained each of his limbs to a truck altmode and pulled. He felt the strain in his processor. The datapad was slapped down, he rubbed his optics. “Is this really necessary?”

Rewind, the smallest mech Thunderclash had ever met, ran up to his side, slapping his arm. “Yes, history is very important, you need to understand what happened before and how that affected society.”

He huffed, his processor was melting in his helm, he was sure that it would leak out of his intake. “I know that but...does it have to be so boring?”

Rewind groaned, climbing down the stairs and jumping off the railing on Thunderclash’s desk. The tiny mech had a massive library, Thunderclash often wondered what the world was like through Rewind’s optics. “You wouldn’t expect a seeker from Vos to fly over the sea of rust during the night cycle?” He snapped.

“All of that due to a missing explorers and bad luck?” 

“Exactly.” Rewind huffed crossing his arms. “Besides, it’s not that bad, did I ever tell you about the massacre of the North travelers?”

He shook his helm, he did hear some rumors but never the full story, and knowing Rewind would be the one mech to get the full story, or as close to it as he could. “No, what happened?”

“Well,” Rewind sat down on his desk, swinging his peds. “No one is truly sure, the North travelers was a friendly group of mech who’d explore Cybertron. Mechs of all kinds, mechs from the East, West, North and South, seekers, tanks, two-wheelers. All were welcome, they respected kingdoms and worked with them, hardly ever causing trouble. Then one night several cycles ago there was a fire, on the other side of the sea. We sent a few mechs to investigate.” Rewind jumped off the desk, running up the spiral staircase to his office. “I know you’re a bit young to see this but, I think you’re ready!” He called, then dashed back down the stairs and handed Thunderclash a dataslug. “Your sire told me to never publically share theses.”

He plugged the slug in and opened up the files, his tanks dropping and his plates shivered. Energon stained the ground and helmless gray frames took up most of the photos. “Primus.”

“No one knows who did it, but it was a well thought out attack, cold, savage, and done with a bronze blade. There’s a tension between the kingdoms due to this and the other political issues.”

Thunderclash handed the slug back to Rewind. “Issues like the prince of Kaon isn’t a true royal, the king of Vos is barren and took a shuttle to be his mate.”

“Yes, these are issues you must navigate to ensure your kingdom of Iacon doesn’t fall.”

He vented, frowning, it was like driving through a minefield and any wrong turn would mean certain death. That the crown would hang heavy on his helm and he would collapse under the weight of his responsibilities. He wished Rodimus wasn’t practicing with Optimus right now.

* * *

“You’re holding the saber too tight.” Optimus barked, leaning down and yanking Rodimus up by his spoiler. 

Rodimus hissed bucking Optimus’ servo off his spoiler, then picking up the saber. He vented, curling his digits around the handle. No wonder why Optimus was the leader of the royal guard and Ultra Magnus’ top general. It felt like he was trained by a war frame since he could hold a tiny sword. Rodimus rolled his shoulders, loosening up his struts, there was one thing he had over the harsh mech, speed. 

He flung himself to the right, lazily lowering his saber, Optimus caught it but didn’t catch Rodimus’ ped kicking his knee. Then Rodimus spun around, slamming his elbow into Optimus’ neck. Optimus caught his ped and yanked him down, drawing his own blade and slamming it down. Rodimus blocked it with one arm, pushing himself up and slamming into Optimus. The red and blue mech stumbled back, holding his saber up to block Rodimus advance. Wildly he swung the blade left and right, the echo of their blades filled the room. Finally Rodimus pinned Optimus down and with one final strike his blade snapped Optimus’ in half.

Optimus’ blue and red optics narrowed as the broken saber. “Impressive, but”

There it was, it was always there the ‘but’, what more did Optimus want? Rodimus felt his frame grow hot and anger boil under his plates. “What?” He snapped, his vents gasping in air.

“That will tire you out, you need to find the quickest way to disable your foe an-” Optimus droned on and on, his voice was pushed into the background as Rodimus heard ped steps, heavy steps.

He drew his saber up and listened, closing his vents and waited. _ He’s coming… from the left? No the right. _ The steps got louder and he just saw the glint of blue. Rodimus dashed and drew his blade again, the dull edge only inches from Thunderclash’s throat.

“Rodimus!” Optimus yelled grabbing the blade out of Rodimus’ servo.

Thunderclash glanced at Rodimus then back to Optimus, sinking back through the doors.

Optimus turned to face Rodimus, glaring, it was funny with his mismatched optics, one red, one blue. “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT THE PRINCE NO DECAPITATE HIM!”

Rodimus rolled his optics, crossing his arms, much like a sparkling still getting yelled at by its creators. “I knew it was him and the blade was pointed away from him.”

Optimus huffed shaking his helm. “Since I met you, you’ve been a constant helmache.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to also train the royal family with basic defence skills?”

“You know that the law forbids it.”

Rodimus shrugged. “Fine, it’s stupid and we all know it. At least Vos and Kaon have some sense.” He turned no longer caring if his teacher was still pissed. Rodimus opened the door to find Thunderclash patiently waiting with his helm down. He waited for the doors to shut behind him, then once again he held his vents.

They were alone.

“‘Clash.” Rodimus leaned down.

Thunderclash glanced up his optics pulled down. “I don’t get it, why is Optimus so hard on you?”

Rodimus shrugged. “Ratchet says Optimus sees a lot of himself in me?”

“But-”

“No more buts, come we have a few kliks to kill and a midday fueling for us.” Rodimus slapped Thunderclash’s shoulder.

Thunderclash laughed, his yellow faceplate growing a bit blue.

* * *

Small.

He felt so very small next to Rodimus, and to most mechs that was a curse, to him it was a blessing. It was funny to him seeing visitors mistaking Rodimus for the prince and Thunderclash as a guard. He truly valued Rodimus’ company. Not only that but it was a break from his taxing life, he would listen to Rodimus’ rants, jokes and stories, a small but a worthwhile break from being a royal. 

They scaled the crystal gardens, Rodimus chattering away, tossing his arms up and making a small scene. While Thunderclash kept pace with him, servos folded behind his back and nodding along. 

“At this point I could melt all those broken blades into one and use it to poke someone on the other side of the wall.” Rodimus grinned turning to Thunderclash.

His spark fluttered and he knew he was blushing. “Maybe put it over a fireplace?”

“Would it fit?”

He shrugged. “Or you could use it as a back scratcher?”

Rodimus chuckled elbowing his side, turning away as his frame hummed. “I think Ratchet would kill me if I mess up my frame any more.”

Thunderclash laughed, glancing around the garden, the walls of the castle. For once they were almost alone, well besides the cleaning maid who was dusting the windows.

“Don’t worry she’ll move on in a bit, she always does, cleaning those windows do a number on her knees.” Rodimus stopped looking at a crystal tree they used to climb.

“Did you hear about the Northern travelers?”

“Yes.” Rodimus huffed. “Optimus once told me when he got overcharged.”

“Optimus overcharged?”

“He only does it once a solar cycle, asks for the day off and drinks himself into recharge, says some weird things.” Rodimus shrugged, grabbing Thunderclash’s servo. “She’s gone.”

“Thank fra-” Rodimus pulled him down, their intakes meeting and their engines roaring. Thunderclash crumbled wrapping his huge servos around Rodimus’ frame their frames grew hot and closer. Finally Thunderclash broke the kiss. “This is dangerous.”

Rodimus laughed. “So, I’m sure was frag not going to stop this.”

Their engines purred. “Do you have watch duty tonight?”

Rodimus’ frame burned. “No, are you thinking?”

He nodded, kissing Rodimus again.

* * *

“Excuse me.” A messenger mech stood in the door frame, servos folded behind his back and helm lowered.

Perceptor glanced up from his experiment and Thunderclash paused taking notes. “Yes?” His teacher asked, his voice tight and optics cold. The castle scientist hated being interrupted, most mechs knew this and waited, then again most mechs knew that he was a retired sniper and always carried his old rifle.

“Sorry for the interruption, but Ultra Magnus has requested prince Thunderclash’s presence.” 

Perceptor vented, taking the datapad from Thunderclash. “Go, we’ll continue this tomorrow.” 

Thunderclash nodded, following the mini messenger to Magnus’ quarter’s. He didn’t hate his sire, but he wasn’t close to the king. Mostly due to age difference and how much pressure Ultra Magnus put on him. It was always strange to step into the king’s quarter’s, finding it more gaudy then needed. Far too many curtains, gold trim and polished floor. Even the furniture had a wrap around it. In all honestly he was planning that when Ultra Magnus passed he would redo the whole quarter's.

He watched as the Royal Medic, Ratchet, swiftly left the open patio doors, mumbling, never understood why the guards called him ‘Hatchet’? 

Magnus was on the patio, having his midday fueling and reading through his reports. Optimus stood to the side, always watching, listening, his whole frame ready to strike. Thunderclash stepped forward nodding to Optimus before taking a seat next to his sire. 

Ultra Magnus glanced up, then back down at the report. “You must be wondering why I’ve summoned you?”

“Yes.” He folded his servos on his lap.

Ultra Magnus hummed picking up a datapad and sliding it to Thunderclash. “It’s a proposal from Trypticon.”

Instantly his frame shivered, Rewind had always kept him up to date on the current status of other kingdoms. Vos had stable trade routes and traded with Iacon, but king Starscream was a hard mech to get along with. Somehow king Megatron of Kaon established a close relationship between the two kingdoms. Kaon did struggle for awhile due to the past political system, but when Megatron rose to power the kingdom flourished. Then there was Trypticon, a kingdom that seemed to just appear. No one knew anything about the kingdom, but they did know the king. Overlord was a harsh mech, just his presence at royal gatherings and parties frightened almost everyone in attendance. The one exception was Megatron, that mech openly challenged king Overlord and Overlord declined.

Thunderclash frowned glancing through the fancy wording, his midday fuel turning sour as he read on. “Overlord wants to open trade routes with us and become allies?”

Ultra Magnus nodded.

“Why?”

His sire vented, his vents wheezing. “It’s no secret that my health is declining, in fact many kingdoms are eyeing Iacon, thinking that you’re too young to rule. It seems that Overlord is offering Iacon’s protection.”

“Okay?” Thunderclash read further down, his frame grew cold and he hissed between his denta. “No,”

Ultra Magnus’s frown grew. “I know it’s hard to under-”

“No, simple as that, I’m not.”

“Thunderclash you have to understand it’s for the kingdom.”

He slammed the datapad down, glaring at his sire. “I choose who I bond with.” He hissed spinning on his heel and stomped out of the quarters.

Optimus stared at the empty seat, his own spark plummeting, a horrible familiar feeling sinking into the back of his processor. He hadn’t felt this in cycles, it always felt like he saw a way to prevent a landslide. And once again he could choose between watching the rocks slowly crush a mech, or take action.

* * *

He stared at his reflection, pushing his shoulders back and his chest forward.

Optimus rolled his optics, staring back at Rodimus.

Who knew you could pick out your reflection from across a dining room in your master’s optics? He knew that Optimus was going to scold him when the night guards took over. Then again Optimus wouldn’t find him in Thunderclash’s quarter’s. 

They stood respectfully at one end of the dining table, Optimus to the right of Ultra Magnus, Rodimus to Thunderclash’s left. The royals fueled in a strained silence, Ultra Magnus and Thunderclash hardly looked at one another. Miles of table between the two of them.

Rodimus glanced at Thunderclash, then to Ultra Magnus, and finally back to Optimus. Thunderclash quickly fueled, his frame tight and plating stretched out. Ultra Magnus’s frame dropped, it creaked and showed his age. Optimus was...normal, besides the strange look in his optics, was that concern?

Thunderclash swallowed his fuel first, standing, his chair scratching as he jerked up.

“At least consider it.” Ultra Magnus huffed out.

Thunderclash glared at his sire, turning and stomping out. Rodimus scurried to follow him, the two rushing through the halls and towards Thunderclash’s quarter’s. The prince slammed the door open, it sounded like a blaster exploding. They stepped in and the door was slammed shut. Rodimus didn’t have time to reset his optics as Thunderclash scooped him up in one servo and desperately kissed him.

Rodimus huffed pulling them apart, meeting Thunderclash’s watering optics, his spark bled and he cupped the prince’s helm. “What’s wrong, sweetspark.”

Thunderclash carried them to the berth, falling onto it, rubbing comforting circles on Rodimus’ spoiler. “Ultra Magnus is asking too much of me.”

Rodimus rolled his optics. “When is he not?”

He laughed. “I can take a crash course on how to run Iacon, learn the history of every kingdom and their cultural traditions, even chemistry.” He huffed once again cupping Rodimus’ helm. “I will not allow him to bond me off.”

It all snapped into place, and Rodimus felt sick. “Bond you off?”

Thunderclash looked ashamed. “I’m afraid so.”

Rodimus pressed a kiss to Thunderclash’s helm. “No it’s your choice.” He held onto Thunderclash listening to his lover’s soft sobs and doing his best to comfort him.

Rodimus wasn’t sure when he fell into recharge, but being literally thrown out of it wasn’t. He landed on his peds, drawing his blade and meeting his attackor’s blade. Optimus glared down at him, knocking Rodimus’ saber out of his servo and slamming him into a wall.

“Rodimus? Optimus?” Thunderclash jumped off his berth.

Optimus spun around glaring at him. “Return to your berth, your knight guards are here and your personal one is no longer needed!” He barked.

Thunderclash skidded to a stop hanging his helm.

Optimus grabbed Rodimus by his spoiler and dragged him out of Thunderclash’s quarters. Rodimus hissed in pain, feeling the dents and his circuits lighting a fire. Optimus tossed him into his personal quarter.

“What?” Rodimus snarled, finding this same situation so familiar, it wasn’t the first time he was in trouble with the head guard.

“We both know that what you were doing is forbidden.” He snapped, standing over Rodimus.

Rodimus met Optimus’ glare with a with own burning optics. “King Starscream is bonded with a common shuttle. Who gives a frag about-”

“Rodimus Iacon has a weak king and a underage prince, it’s easy to take over. Iacon needs this bonding to survive!” Optimus jabbed a digit in Rodimus’ chest.

“Thunderclash is going to be a fine king, king Megatron doesn’t have a bondmate!”

Optimus finals sagged to the sides but snapped right back into place. “Iacon isn’t ready for a half bloodline, Rodimus you’re a problem for Thunderclash.”

“AND HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?!” He blew up.

Optimus stood firmly, viewing Rodimus like an upset sparkling. “You’re on outer wall duty from now on.” Optimus’ words felt like Rodimus slammed right into a boulder in his alt mode.

“Optimus wai-”

The castle guard slammed the door shut, leaving Rodimus. Optimus finally vented, his own optics watering, he stared at his peds, his spark breaking in two. He always hated getting into fights with Rodimus. “It’s for the best.” He mumbled making his way to his own quarters.

The wind whistled through his finals, bringing an odd sense of calm. Iacon at his peds, he watched as mechs buzzed around their lives, running errands, going to work, playing. 

“Rodimus!” Iron Hide was a real pain in his aft, the fragger always had to point out something, he wasn’t standing straight enough, he didn’t check the whole 180 degree pramitter, that he vented for a second. He didn’t even flinch when Iron Hide stomped up to him, leaning down. “Enjoying the view?”

“Yeah, but I think that old mech could use a hand with his cubes and the sparklings need to move out of the alley.”

Iron Hide seethed, his plating ruffeling out. “Rodi-”

“Iron Hide,” Optimus stood over his second in command, resting a servo on Iron Hide’s shoulder. “Would you mind helping that mech and warning those sparklings?”

Iron Hide glanced at Optimus, then back at Rodimus, he huffed and nodded.

Rodimus vented, he really did wish that Iron Hide was screaming his helm off at him, it’d be better than literally being in Optimus shadow. “Yes?”

Optimus stood next to him, drawing in a deep vent. “King Overlord is going to visit and discuss ...that with Ultra Magnus. I need my best guard back at his post.”

Rodimus tsked. “Having trouble with the replacements?”

“Thunderclash keeps sneaking out, I assume to run away, or find you.”

“Fine,” He turned and glanced up at Optimus. “On one condishion, don’t you ever block my sun again.” He snapped.

Optimus moved to Rodimus’ left. “I...I wanted to clarify something else, when you said,” He rested a servo on Rodimus’ shoulder and leaned down. “Please don’t mention Megatron’s unfortunate situation.”

Rodimus frowned, watching as Optimus sharply stood back up and left. Optimus was always a mystery, mask always closed, many of the guards have never seen such a fighter before. To most he was an emotionless hard mech that worked and did nothing else, but every now and then Rodimus would find it. Optimus would be quiet at times, he’d stare out, lost in his own processor. He did find out that Optimus would occasionally take a cycle off to himself and disappear, whenever he came back he seemed sad.

“Optimus the statue.”

Rodimus jerked as he saw in the distance a lone flight frame, high above the clouds, the sun reflected off the mech’s plates. Strange, there was nothing in the Magnesium mountains.

* * *

“How about this polish?” A servant rubbed some on his forearm, instantly his blue paint brightened and sparkled.

_ Rodimus would look good with this. _ “Uh...no it’s not meant for me.”

The servant vented. “Prince Thunderclash you need to pick something, this one’s too glossy, this one’s too sparkly, this one makes you squeak. You know that this night cycle king Overlord will be here?”

His tank curled into another knot, he pictured one of those overly complicated knots forming. “I know, I...I’m just stressed.”

She petted his helm. “Don’t worry, worse comes to worse we can always dump you in a vat of polish.”

Thunderclash held down a loud groan, checking the time. “Here, can I just take some samples?”

She paused, shrugged and handed him all the jars. “Take them,” She snapped and left.

He finally vented, sinking down in his chair and grabbing his helm. “I wish there was a way to leave my frame, avoid all of this.” Thunderclash shivered looking up at the light fixtures, feeling the weight of his frame. How did he get to this? Being sold off to keep the peace. 

The door to his quarter’s opened and closed, and tight pedsteps echoed in the empty rooms. He sunk farther into the seat, another guard. Where was the snappy comebacks, the stupid jokes? In all honestly he really did miss how Rodimus’ spoiler would jump up when he was excited. 

Dragging himself out of his seat at a glacial pace he picked up all the tiny containers, glaring at them. He tossed them aside on a counter, hoping he would forget about them and just meet Overlord with his paint all scratched and covered in dirt. He waved to the guard stumbling towards his bathroom, naturally the guard followed him, always watching, waiting.

“Really?” He snapped, couldn’t he get one single second to himself, just to be alone? Thunderclash spun around, hissing.

“Oh I’m sorry I’m doing my job,” Rodimus snapped flicking his helm.

His spark swelled and he rushed forward squeezing Rodimus into a hug, pressing their intakes together. Rodimus gasped and kissed him back, wrapping his arms around Thunderclash’s neck. Thunderclash’s engine roared and they fell back into his berth. “I missed you.”

Rodimus laughed straddling Thunderclash’s waist. “Missed you too, but wall duty wasn’t too bad.” Finding the position on top of Thunderclash all too comfortable, his spoiler flicking. “So?”

Thunderclash blinked. “So?”

“What’s the plan for Overlord?”

“Oh,” His spark sunk, Thunderclash wrapped a servo behind Rodimus’ struts. “I...I don’t have one. I guess meet him and…”

Rodimus scowled, his own engine growling, he rested a servo over Thunderclash’s spark chamber. “If he does anything-”

“You’ll fend him off.” Thunderclash leaned up and kissed Rodimus. “I know you will sweet spark.” It felt good to have Rodimus back, wonderful in fact. “Not like I would love anyone besides you.”

“Nervous?” Rodimus ran his digits down Thunderclash’s chest.

“Very, I’ve heard things about him, I’m scared.”

Rodimus laughed. “Just tell me if you need me.”

Thunderclash hadn’t slept so well in ages, having Rodimus’ comforting weight over his frame, he never felt safer. 

* * *

Then the cycle came, it was before the sun rose and blessed the sleepy Iacon kingdom with it’s golden rays. To the citizens it was another drowsy cycle, the city lay in wake. But if one were to look in the right place they would see the quiet army, making sure that their peds didn’t even make a tap. 

He grew up waking without the sun, ever since he was a sparkling he never was blessed with the sun warming up his hab. He never needed it. He sent ordered to Iron Hide, and Jazz. informing them that king Overlord would be arriving. Optimus checked king Ultra Magnus’ quarters before making his way to the prince’s quarters.

He knew what he would find, the site all too familiar. His peds never made a sound as he crept towards the bathroom, slowly opening the door. The stench of interface hit him first as he gazed down at the two frames, Thunderclash took up most of the berth his arm around Rodimus. Rodimus was wide awake, his blue optics meeting Optimus, defiant as always.

Optimus left them alone, unable to break them apart, it may be part of his old life, his stubborn youth. Something he could never return to, even if he longed to. He finally stopped looking out one of the many windows, towards where the sun was rising, his spark pulling towards the horizon. 

* * *

His spark was in his intake, plushing and tightening, his digits twitched begging to have his saber handle between his digits. Every inch of his frame screamed at him to lunge in front of Thunderclash.

They first spotted the shadow, two thick finals and broad shoulders cut through the sunlight. The pedsteps were loud and demanded their attention, announcing the king’s arrival. Overlord was massive, easily king Ultra Magnus’ size, his red optics cut through the room examining everyone. Glossy lips turned up and his optics landed on Thunderclash, then Rodimus, Overlord stopped, dropping his smile but then he turned to king Ultra Magnus and bowed. “king Ultra Magnus, I am humbled to be in your presence.”

Rodimus glanced at Optimus, his spark almost leaping out of his intake, Optimus was resting his servo on his saber and his blaster. He was tense, so much that a bead of oil ran down his browl. Neither of them trusted Overlord. 

King Ultra Magnus stood up, offering his servo, Overlord took it. “How was the journey?”

“Flawless, however I apologize for my appearance, it is the dry season.”

“Don’t fret, I’m sure you and your convoy are exhausted, I'll show you to your quarters.” 

Rodimus didn’t let Overlord leave his optics until they were out of the throne room, he finally vented and felt his spark sink down his intake. He met Thunderclash’s concerned optics. “What?”

“Your servo.” Thunderclash pointed down to Rodimus’ wasit.

Rodimus was gripping his saber handle, bright pink energon ran down his digits. “Huh,”

“Let’s take you to Ratchet.”

“How about we don’t?”

Thunderclash already made his way down the steps, a discouraged Rodimus followed. Thunderclash led them to where they knew no other mech would be, well besides one. The library was huge, massive, and then there was Rewind. The tiny mech buzzed around the top level, pausing to glance down at them. 

“You know,” Rewind started, his helm hovering over the railing. “One of theses cycles someone is going to walk in on you two and my servos are going to be tied”

Rodimus grinned. “You wouldn’t, you’re a romantic at spark.”

Rewind slumped over the railing, his whole frame venting. “You know I am.” Rewind picked himself up and disappeared into the labyrinth of datapads and dataslugs. 

“Rodimus?” Thunderclash rested a servo on his spoiler, his red optics pinned Rodimus. “You’re tense.”

He felt every strut, line and wire in his frame unravel, his shoulders slumping, he glanced down at his pink servo. Strange it didn’t hurt, or he didn’t notice it. “I’m not sure why.”

“You don’t trust Overlord do you?” Thunderclash took his servo, patting a chair. “Let me get that for you.” 

Rodimus slumped into the chair, watching as Thunderclash tenderly poked around his bleeding servo, pulling out his small first aid kit. With all too familiar softness his servo was washed, decontantimated and finally wrapped up, Thunderclash curled Rodimus’ digits in and told him to squeeze the bandage. “Of course I don’t trust him.” He finally said, gesturing to Thunderclash.

“Rodimus all he did was step in and glance at us before talking to my sire.” Thunderclash countered.

He shivered, something about those dead red optics frightened him. “I know...Just don’t be alone with him, okay?”

Thunderclash snorted leaning forward and kissing Rodimus. “Okay, just don’t cut yourself again.”

“Okay, okay.”

He still didn’t trust Overlord, and lucky he wasn’t the only one. Rodimus glanced over to the other side of the balcony, Optimus. The red and blue knight was tight, he hadn’t vented this whole time. The servo away from Overlord was resting on his saber, his knees were bent, if Overlord dared to strike or even raise his voice Optimus would be on him. 

“Storms coming.” Overlord mentioned not even looking up from his glass.

Thunderclash sat next to him, and turned around to eye the dark clouds. “It’s really picking up.” 

The winds threw millions of sand particles up into the air, creating a wall.

“We should move this inside.” King Ultra Magnus said slowly getting to his peds.

“Agreed.” Overlord joined king Ultra Magnus, Optimus followed right behind.

Rodimus waited for Thunderclash to join them, watching as the wall of sand grew closer and closer. Thunderclash paused glancing at him, he wanted to say something but turned away and joined everyone inside. Rodimus was the last to join, waiting for the servants to finish up cleaning before closing up the patio. 

“So tell me about yourself Thunderclash?” Overlord pressed, his deep voice echoing warmly off the walls.

Thunderclash had been quiet for awhile, mostly eyeing his energon. “Well...I’m still studying history and chemistry-”

“No, no, what do you do for fun?” Overlord cut him off.

“Oh, uh,” Thunderclash paused. “Well I like to explore and help around my kingdom, mostly learn and use my skills.”

“Interesting.” Overlord rumbled. “Tell me did you help build that clinic downtown?”

“I did, it was something I had been working on for awhile now and it still needs some equipment. Rodimus helped me find the best location.”

“Ah that’s very kind of you.”

Rodimus bristled when Overlord rested his servo on Thunderclash’s shoulder.

“Rodimus, can’t you just relax?” Thunderclash sat on his berth, tired from the cycle’s activities. 

Rodimus paced from the windows to his wall, and finally the door. “No,” he locked the door, then the windows and anything else, everything was secured. “I don’t trust him.”

“He’s a kind mech, you’re paranoid.” Thunderclash rolled his optics and fell back onto his berth.

Rodimus grit his denta, his frame expelling heat. “I’m not.”

Thunderclash groaned. “Rodimus please just join me?”

He would, he really wanted to, but- “I’m going to check the parameters again.” Rodimus snapped stomping off.

“And then-”

Rodimus tuned out the laughter, watching all three blue mechs tell stories, his spark stung, it burned and writheled. His denta ached from being ground down and clentching at the slightest sound. His optics couldn’t focus anymore and yet he refused to let them rest.

Thunderclash leaned in towards Overlord, laughing.

Rodimus’s spoiler jumped up and his spark seethed.

“Rodimus.” Optimus called walking up behind him. 

He stopped, watching as another group of guards took over. “What?”

“You need to rest.”

“No, I don’t.” Rodimus spun around, stumbling.

Optimus steadied him by holding his shoulders. “That’s an order.”

Rodimus glanced at Thunderclash’s frame slipping behind another door, 5 guards following them. “So do you.”

Optimus nodded, wrapping an arm around Rodimus’ shoulders and pulling him along. “Let’s get some recharge.”

“Promise me nothing will happen to him.”

Optimus patted Rodimus’ helm. “Nothing will happen.”

Rodimus bolted awake, his whole frame flying out of his berth, his spark screaming. 

_ Something was wrong. _

He dashed past the mirror, without washing or even polishing his armor, and grabbed his saber. The floor flew past him, servants and guards halted letting him pass. The sound of cheering and music filled his audios. He stumbled into the ballroom which was filled with mechs dancing and drinking. Each one elegantly draped in fabrics and jewels, their plates shining.

Rodimus straightened himself out and glanced over to king Ultra Magnus seated upon his throne, above Thunderclash’s and Overlord’s. Optimus was staring at him, shocked at the sudden intrusion. It wasn’t this shift to guard, his frame rattled with exhaustion and tension, like a thin line he would walk from being online to off. Rodimus, hardly concerned for following protocol, made his way over to stand next to Optimus, his servos folded behind his back. 

Rodimus leaned close to Optimus,“Where is he?” 

“There in the center”, The ventran general rumbled. “I didn’t know Thunderclash could dance.”

Through the masses of bots on the ballroom floor, Rodimus finally spotted the big blue mech, watching him circle around Overlord, his peds elegantly mixing with the king’s. “He can’t dance to save his life.” Rodimus mumbled, stepping down.

“Rodimus don’t.” Optimus tried to grab Rodimus’ arm but missed. “Rodimus!” He hissed under his breath.

He froze, watching the graceful dance between them. How Overlord’s servos held onto Thunderclash. How Thunderclash smiled, that sweet grin that warmed Rodimus’ spark. They almost moved as one, Overlord would put his ped out when Thunderclash would tuck his in. He never got the prince to stop stumbling, and overlord succeeded where he failed. Somehow they danced as if they were a single mech. The crowd of mechs hardly noticing his burning glare and the music drowned out Rodimus’ processor. His spark ached as he bravely stepped forward, shutting his optics and venting. The other guests parted for him, forced to cease their dancing as he was cutting through the crowd. 

Thunderclash was laughing and smiling, while Overlord’s engine’s purred as they continued to dance, oblivious to Rodimus storming towards them. 

Rodimus gripped his saber’s hilt, his spark frozen. 

“Thunderclash!” 

They stumbled to a stop and the prince stood tall, turning towards Rodimus. “Yes?” he blinked, frowning down at Rodimus. Overlord quietly hid behind Thunderclash.

His words were caught in his intake. He tried to force them out but it felt like tiny claws were tearing him up inside. His spark was cold, and his engine stalled. 

“I- uh...”

Thunderclash sneered, his lovely red optics cruel and cold. “Return to your post guard, I thought you were _ trained _ better.” Thunderclash turned back to Overlord pulling the king close. 

Rodimus felt the room spinning around him but not because of the mechs’ dancing. His digits ached as they dented the handle for his saber, his servo dripping. His peds looked so small, so scratched and filthy against the polished ballroom floor. 

“Thunderclash!” he vented, voice ragged.

Overlord moved abruptly and Thunderclash raised his helm from the mech’s shoulder, his handsome faceplates now squished together. “What is it you want _ common guard _?” 

Rodimus stared into callous red optics, his spark breaking in two. “What are you doing?” Thunderclash would never. 

“I’m dancing with my king and future spouse, something courting mechs do.” Thunderclash snapped, folding his arms and standing tall. 

Rodimus sunk, suddenly feeling the weight of everyone’s optics. “T-Thund-”

“Now I suggest,” Thunderclash leaned down, meeting Rodimus’ watery optics. “You do _ your _ job, or you can be replaced by someone who _ can _.”

Rodimus felt his saber finally shatter between his digits, snapping in two, he didn’t even realize he was holding the blade instead of the hilt. His intake was closing and his processor was freezing up, and his tanks were rolling. Everything felt off. 

“T-Thunderclash…” His vocalizer was breaking. “I love you.” 

Rodimus wasn’t expecting what happened next; he was staring into those beautiful yet dead ruby optics, and then the floor. His scratched and dented peds against the shiny elegant floor. It was the echo, then the gasps of astonished mechs around him and finally the blinding pain in his cheek. 

“Leave.” Thunderclash snarled, flashing his denta.

Rodimus clutched his cheek; his frame filling with static, as his shaky optics focused to look up at Thunderclash. 

Those cold, uncaring eyes once looked at him with such affection, such fervor… It burned.

The pain in his faceplates, his helm, and his spark; everything burned. He pulled himself up, gathering up whatever lubricate he could in his intake and spat it on Thunderclash’s faceplates. The crowd around them looked on in shock.

Rodimus swiftly turned to leave, rampaging out of the dancing mechs and out of the ballroom.

He burst through the door to his personal hab, optics now overflowing. Rodimus felt the cool air fill his intake as he slammed his fists down on his berth, like liquid the berth twisted and broke. And yet his servos kept moving, slamming into it, creating deep holes and canyons out of his fists. Finally he easily ripped it out of the wall, throwing it across the hab and watching it break in half.

Rodimus spun around when his door opened pausing as Optimus, his master, lead guard and the closest thing he had to a sire stood there. “Rodimus,” Optimus stared down at him, his mismatched optics filled with pain. 

Rodimus opened his intake, a horrid sound filled the room

Optimus dashed forward hugging him, patting his back. 

Rodimus howled, as washer fluid tumbled down his faceplates, his intake tightening as more sobs filled the room. 

Optimus glanced down at him, looking at the scuffed face panels. “He struck you.” each word sounded like they were raked out of Optimus intake.

Rodimus nodded, hugging the mech, unable to speak.

Optimus let him, holding him there and watching as his spark broke, he didn’t say anything, he couldn’t think of anything to say. Patting Rodimus’ back struts. It was only when Rodimus grew quiet did Optimus finally say something. “Rodimus?”

Rodimus’ engine stalled. “I...how much shannex have I saved up?”

Optimus froze. “Over 50,000 credits…”

Rodimus shook, what he really going to do this? On shaky peds he stood tall, blinking the washer fluid out of his optics. “I quit.”

Optimus looked sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright say it with me kids, THUNDERCLASH WOULD NEVER!  
Things Rodimus can do:  
break an optic when he's a baby  
breaks sabers almost daily  
cuts himself without noticing it  
wreaks a welded in berth like a meth-head Florida man  
=Rodimus is strong


	3. Wildfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Roddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost forgot to update this!

Tiny clouds of red dust burst up with each gust of wind, the red desert stretched for miles and miles, only to end at a few glittering cities. Iacon was the smallest out of the three cities, it’s glittering colorful towers and busy streets. Vos was the loudest, and the tallest of the cities, it was carved into one of the mountains, towering skyscrapers cut through the purple sky. Finally there was Kaon, a city hidden in the mountain as they called it, guarded by natural formations, this was the quietest city. 

The tiny cavern provided shelter and a great view of each kingdom. He knelt by the energon stream filling his sealable cube. For the past 3 day cycles he camped here, recharging during the later parts of the day and waking up at night to watch. No one in the right processor would cross the desert in the day.

He rarely spoke when he had a job, kept quiet as he waited and watched. He studied the carven top to bottom, anything to keep his processor busy. He slowly grew comfortable in the makeshift berth and wrapped himself up with a heat sack. Watching the sun climb higher and higher into the purple sky between the carven’s cracked roof.

It was much later in the day that he woke, he held his vents as his peds slowly crept towards the entrance. The sun was setting and there was a faint dust storm that started to kick up, it twirled into the sky throwing sand everywhere. To most mechs they would’ve guessed it was another twister, but he learned quickly that the faint glimmer at the very bottom was a mech. 

He watched as the sun set and the twister faded away, not the mech tore across the sands, the speed frame slowed to a stop and slowly made a small fire. Quietly he crept out of his tiny cave, saber in servo and towards the mech. Sinking into the shadows as the fire grew and grew. 

_ Yellow optics, missing finails, scarred servos. _ He counted off each trait the mech had, turning towards the drugged turbo fox.

The mech sung and drank energex as he pulled out a beacon and set it aside.

Soon after a flock of seeker’s cut through the quiet. 

He sunk down behind a rock as the seekers flew by.

They landed with a faint jingle, the leader stepped forward. “About time.” He snapped.

The drunk mech laughed. “Well I guess I’ll take a look at the goods.” He patted the turbo fox’s helm before getting to his peds.

_ Thats them, all of them, the traffickers and the fox fighter.  _ Rodimus sunk down as the seeker inspected the fox, while the drunk mech looked at the group of young scared seekers. He slipped behind the seeker, his saber slicing through the seeker’s neck. He spun around to the drunk mech, he didn’t even notice his partner’s beheading. Pulling out a blaster and shooting the drunk mech in the neck.

He turned to the group of frightened seekers, he smiled. “Hi,” He waved putting his blaster away. “I’m here to help.”

They shuffled glancing at one another, some hiding, wings held high in alert.

Rodimus sighed. “Poor things.” He reached for the chain, breaking it between his servos, then pointed towards Vos. “Go there, to the capital, ask for Thundercracker, tell him everything, he’ll help you.” He said breaking the rest of the chains.

Some of them waited, others bolted towards Vos, their home, Rodimus let them take their time, as he turned towards the tubro fox. It could hardly lift it’s helm, optics fuzzy with stadic, the rest of the seekers flew off and Rodimus opened the cage. He waited holding his vents as the dented fox sunk out. Those red optics never leaving Rodimus' frame. It was small, a pup, it's panels rose up when Rodimus grabbed a cube. He peeled it open and set it aside for the fox.

The fox watched him dragging itself towards the cube, it smelled the energon and slowly took a sip.

"You're very smart." Rodimus said as the fox waited, the fuzz from its optics clearing.

Soon after the fox drank down the rest of the cube. Keeping its distance from Rodimus.

The fox whined, glancing around, ears flicking and tail twitching. It was lost, unsure of where to go, where its home was, or its family.

"I know that feeling buddy." Rodimus grew up on Iacon's streets, he never knew his creators, they probably didn't want him. Then he thought he had found a home, training alongside Optimus, then...Thunderclash.

His spark sunk, he'd been trying to avoid thinking about him. "New paint, new job, new life. And yet?" he frowned. Shouldn't this pain be gone by now? It's been 6 jors, and it still felt like it happened last night cycle. The ball, the royal mechs, two sets of blue peds dancing. Then the numbing pain, his burning plates- "No." He growled to himself, a small grin curled up on his plates. "At least I spat on him."

The turbo fox whined turning away from the desert night. Still a pup, it trotted over towards Rodimus and smelled his frame.

"Hey little guy," he said softly patting the fox's helm. He wasn't sure why but animals always liked him, when he was a mechling perto rabbits would got stuck outside the castle. None of them ever bit him or fought, naturally a few scratches. When he left everything from turbo foxes to birds seemed to gravitate towards him.

The fox purred and leaned into his warm touch. 

"Don't worry I'll get you home."

He put out the fire, cleaned up the mess and stomped the cage into the ground. Shortly after Rodimus took off the fox easley keeping pace with him. They recharged in his makeshift shelter, the fox curled up at his side.

His struts ached from the climb but he finally pulled up to the gates of vos. He waved to the guards, getting a few optics from the tubro fox on his tail. "He's with me." 

The fox clung to him as he weaved through the city of Vos, Rodimus made his way towards the royal guard. He smiled and waved to Thundercracker, the blue seeker reset his optics. "You still function?"

Rodimus grinned pulling out the sack and tossing them to Thundercracker. More than 5 helms sat in the sack, criminals, mechs who made slaves out of sacred mechlings. Turbo fox fighters and poachers, even drug traffickers. "Told ya I could do it."

Thundercracker glanced into the bag, whistling. "And ya did, come I'll get your shanix." Thundercracker paused spotting the fox.

"Friend I made along the way."

“He or she?”

“He, found that out this morning,”

"He's cute, needs a good bath."

They stepped into Thundercracker's office, he was the head guard and law enforcement for Vos. Being one of Starscream's spark trine had its perks. But Thundercracker worked for this position, he didn't run the tightest castle but he wasn't a slob either.

Thundercracker sat behind his desk, his-what was it? Dog, Buster wagged her tail, greeting Rodimus and his friend. "Let's see, ah, wow you got them all. And the trafficked seekers from last night cycle were you?"

Rodimus nodded. 

"Frag, good news is that there's no other underground mechs that we know of. Bad news is that you've put yourself out of a job." he frowned.

Rodimus patted the fox's helm, thinking.

"You're an excellent guard, we co-"

The door swished open, King Starscream stomped in. "Thundercracker, I just got a personal comm from Koan about the festival. King Megatron is hosting a challenge, a gladiator fight. It's friendly but I need the best mechs that can fight. King Megatron's mystery champion is the final foe, and whoever beats him gets a prize." Starscream finished a small smile. "Brother, give me the best fighters you've got."

Thundercracker thought got a sparkbeat before snapping and pointing towards Rodimus. "Him, he's the best."

"What?" Rodimus sunk down and the fox jumped up on his lap. "Me?"

The mech wasn't pushed but he was thrown off his peds, his frame ground into the dirt. "Ow." he vented.

Rodimus didn't mean to toss him like a sparking, half the time he didn't even know his own strength.

"Sweet Primus, Rodimus." Skyfire said from the stands. King Starscream sat comfortably in his bondmate's lap, purring.

"Wanna calm down, kid?" Knockout called rushing to the thrown mech. His bonded Breakdown in pursuit.

"Sorry." Rodimus hissed sheathing his old saber. 

King Starscream leaned towards Skyfire covering his intake, then towards Thundercracker. Finally his crimson optics landed on Rodimus. "Congrats, Rodimus, you'll be part of our champions."

Rodimus nodded in thanks turning to the other selected fighters. Cyclonus, a towering older seeker, Whirl, a blue chatty helicopter, the jet twins, he didn't catch their designation. And him.

Rodimus whistled and a turbo fox bolted out towards him, jumping up and down. He leaned over petting the happy fox. "Good boy, who's a good boy? It's you baby cakes!" the fox barked and waved between his peds. "Good boy, Spitfire."

“So,” Rodimus sunk in the seat, Spitfire laid on his lap peacefully in recharge, he stared at Cyclonus. “What’s this festival about?”

Cyclonus’ red unblinking optics turned to Rodimus, his frown somehow deepened. “You don’t know?”

He shook his helm, patting Spitfire’s back. “No, I...I’m from Iacon.”

Cyclonus rumbled. “That explains a lot. The Silver and Gold festival is a celebration between Vos and Kaon, each solar cycle it switches, this cycle it’s at Kaon.”

“But, what is it about?”

“The friendship that the two cities have. Vos and Kaon have always been close, almost like brothers.”

“Huh.” Rodimus turned towards the small window watching the ground fly by. “I’ve never been to Kaon.”

Whirl’s helm was shoved into Rodimus’ view, the helicopter frame hung upside down from the ceiling. “Really? You’ve never been to Kaon?” His yellow optic shrunk.

Rodimus shook his helm.

“That’s enough Whirl.” Cyclonus snapped.

“Kaon is huge, I figured a power house like you would be running the pl-” Whirl fell on his helm knocking himself out.

“Uh.”

Cyclonus shrugged. “That’s normal.”

“What’s Kaon like?”

The purple mech crossed his arms. “It’s a hard place, hard mechs, industrial but there's a spark in the city. The civilians work hard and their king works harder.”

“Huh,” He never learned much about the other cities, only rumors and gossip. He knew that king Megatron wasn’t bonded, ran the kingdom all by himself. That Kaon was a huge mining and metal exports, along with some of the best weapons, if it was made in Kaon it was made to last. 

The shuttled jerked to a stop and Cyclonus was the first to leave his seat, grabbing his personal container. Whirl slowly online, his single optic resetting before he jumped up and gathered his items. Finally Spitfire jumped off of Rodimus’ lap, pacing, his tail high, he yapped and wiggled as Rodimus got their things. “Come on.” The hanger door opened and they off loaded.

King Starscream and his mate Skyfire flew there themselves, Starscream huffed wiggling his wings. “Always dusty, why doesn’t it ever rain here?” He snapped kicking up dust. “Gets in my vents and I’ll be backfiring all night cycle.”

Skyfire, who seemed to be the more openly affectionate of the two, rumbled and wrapped his arms around Starscream, pulling him into a hug. “Hush Sweetspark, I’ll give you an oil soak and scrub out all the dust.”

Starscream wiggled, kissing his mate.

Rodimus turned away from the display, his spark aching. Spitfire grabbed hold of his container strap and pulled on it playfully. He laughed ruffling the fox’s head. 

He felt it first, the platform below him shake, his tank grew tense and Spitfire’s helm cocked towards the entrance. Two rubies glittered in the darkness as a figure came closer and closer.

King Starscream rolled his optics. “Always dramatic, aren’t you?” He teased.

A mech, a massive mech stepped forward, his frame gray, he wasn’t as big as Skyfire but he was definitely taller than Starscream. He was clearly meant to be a miner, his thick plates and strong stance, it looked like half of Cybertron could fall on him. There was an air about him, he held his helm high but his optics were dull, an immovable object.

The second most striking detail that he noticed about the mech was how at ease Rodimus felt.

The most striking was-

“King Megatron.” King Starscream said leaving Skyfire’s arms and rushing towards the towering gray mech. “It’s been too long.”

Rodimus almost felt his optics pop out of his helm, shuffling towards Skyfire. “That’s the king?” He whispered.

Skyfire nodded. 

“King Starscream.” Megatron bellowed, greeting the Vosian king with a strong hug. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine, Skywarp and Thundercracker send their best wishes.”

Megatron nodded, turning towards Skyfire. “It’s wonderful to see you too Skyfire.”

Skyfire laughed rolling his optics and pulled Megatron into a hug.

Rodimus watched as the three royals greeted one another like old friends, finding it strange that King Ultra Magnus never had friends like this, well besides  _ him _ . 

Spitfire licked his servo and wiggled.

“So,” Megatron turned towards the group of mechs. “They are your champions?” 

Starscream nodded. “The best of the best for this year's festival.” 

They formed a line, starting with the spark split twins, Megatron greeted them, chatted and suggested a bar and a few great sites to fly over. Then he met Whirl, suprised to see Whirl even in the line up, then explaining that there’s one of Whirl’s clocks in the main hall. Megatron stopped next to Cyclonus. “Ah, Cyclonus, it’s great to see you,”

The purple jet nodded. “Good to see you as well.”

“I must say there’s a certain servant from Iacon that’s been pretty antsy as of late, if you know what I mean?”

Rodimus was sure his optics were glitching, no mech like Cyclonus could ever plush.

Megatron grinned. “Could you look into it for me?”

“Oh course.”

Then the king of Kaon stopped over Rodimus, he towered over Rodimus, and there wasn’t any terror in his spark. The king’s optics flashed for a second. “Oh, hi-”

Spitfire suddenly started yapping and jumping, wagging his fluffy tail, never before has Spitfire ever been so excited.

“Rodimus, control your pet!” Starscream snapped.

Megatron laughed kneeling down and letting the turbo fox climb all over him, licking his face plates and yapping. “It’s quite alright, I’ve gotten used to it.” He ruffled the fox’s plates. “What’s his name?”

“Spitfire, how did you know he’s a he?”

“Ah, only male foxes make that high pitched whine when they’re happy.” Megatron scratched behind Spitfire’s ears and set him aside. “Ah, and you are?”

“Oh, uh, Rodimus.” Rodimus glanced at Megatron then back down to Spitfire who was almost dancing between the king’s peds.

“Ah, well it’s nice to meet you Rodimus,” he offered a servo, Rodimus took it, not knowing how strong the king’s grip was, pushing his own digits to meet Megatorn’s strength. “My, what a grip, I must say I didn’t expect a grounder to be in king Starscream’s champions?”

“Ah, well I just ended up here, my actual job is bounty hunting.”

Megatron cocked an optic ridge. “Really?”

“Yeah, he’s the one who took down those traffickers awhile ago.” Starscream added.

Megatron reset his optics. “Well then, thank you for doing that, I can’t wait to see what you do in the ring Rodimus, and I hope you enjoy your stay at Kaon.” He smiled and nodded, turning to Spitfire. “And I hope to see you around too, Spitfire.”

Spitfire yapped dancing in place.

King Megatron was pulled away by king Starscream, Skyfire in tow.

“Follow me.” An elderly mech stood in the door frame, waving towards them.

Rodimus frowned, leaning towards Cyclonus.

“King Megatron makes sure everyone has a job, even the elderly, he often gets them off their peds himself.” Cyclonus explained.

They followed the elderly mech down a few halls a lifts, stopping as Whirl ran forward towards a massive clock, clearly excited. “And you’re off time!” He snapped flying to the top and popping open the inner mechanics. 

They passed Whirl, letting the clock marker work in peace, only to stop as Cyclonus blurred into a mix of white and purple. A tiny white mech jumped him, giving the purple warrior a tight hug. “Tailgate!” Cyclonus gasped, his face plates turning blue.

“Kids.” The elderly mech huffed showing Rodimus and the twins their habs. “You’re free to explore the city and the castle, however the west wing if off limits, another servant informs you when supper is ready. The kings have advised me to tell you to not stay out too late, you’ll need your rest.”

Rodimus thanked the elderly mech and opened his hab, it wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small, it was a huge berth, so big that two King Ultra Magnus’ could fit on it.  _ This would have been more comfortable wit- _ He cut that train of thought as Spitfire yapped and jumped up on the soft berth, jumping up and down on the cushion. Rodimus laughed, setting his container to the side and joined his friend on the berth.

A while later there was a knock at his door, instinctively he reached for his saber, but grabbed at nothing. Rodimus hissed and shook himself, calling Spitfire to his side and going to the refueling hall. Suprised to see the whole table filled with mechs, servants, guards, generals, warriors, champions, and at the head was the royals. It was busy, mech grabbing cubes and gummies, mech told stories, jokes, pranked one another.

What Rodimus first noticed was the lack of posted guards, he shook his helm. “Not my problem.” He mumbled, finding a seat at the table and grabbing his own cube, and one for Spitfire. Spitfire jumped up onto his lap, running across the table and getting a mouthful of gummies. Rodimus felt his plates tighten as the table stopped watching Spitfire gobbled down the gummies.  _ Frag, frag, frag! _

_ _ Then they erupted in laughter, tossing gummies and cakes towards Spitfire who caught them with ease.

Rodimus huffed slinking in his chair and venting. “You’re gonna get so fat.” He said as Spitfire trotted over to him carrying a cake and dropping it on Rodimus’ servos. He shrugged and ate the cake, the half that didn’t have drool on it.

Rodimus woke with a start, grabbing for his saber, but then stopped.

“TAILGATE!”

“Ugh.” Rodimus groaned slamming his servo against the wall and denting it. “Shut up!”

The creaks and moans stopped.

Rodimus hissed clutching his helm, it was well into the night cycle, and he couldn’t go back to recharge now. So with a snap of his digits Spitfire was by his side and he left his hab. It was dark, and that didn’t deter him, he was used to this, doing night sweeps. They found the throne room (dusty and full of desks), the med bay, the servant’s quarters, and finally what looked to be the training quarters.

Rodimus stopped hearing the clank of metal on metal, the all too familiar scrape of saber. He held his vents in and inched closer to the round balcony, leaning over to see a lone white and gray mech slamming into a dummy. He held a long sword and cut the platting of the dummy, working on his wrist form. He danced elegantly in the sand pit, he was well trained, he knew his stance, balance and his own strength. “You’re holding it too tight.” It slipped out and Rodimus cupped his intake.

The white mech didn’t even look up, cutting the dummy in half and kicking it to the side. “Think so?” Then he turned to face Rodimus, he had red decals on his plates and bright blue optics.

“Y-yeah, I have the same problem...How did you-”

“Know you were here?” The mech reset his optics. “That turbo fox of your’s won’t stop wiggling, and that door likes to squeak.”

“Huh, I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be here.”

The mech laughed. “Neither and I, I’m just nervous and couldn’t recharge.” He shrugged. “Care to join me for a quick spar?”

Rodimus smiled as that, picking up Spitfire and jumping down the balcony. “Why not, I couldn’t recharge either, the hab next door likes to be loud.”

“Ah, Cyclonus and Tailgate?” The white mech pointed to a weapons wall.

He nodded, setting Spitfire down and went to the weapons’ wall, picking a saber up then setting it down, then a long sword. He spun around watching Spitfire climb all over the white mech, yapping and wagging his tail. “Huh, he likes you, and King Megatron.”

“Oh, you’re the ground frame with the turbo fox? Huh, I heard about you, my-servant said something about a strange warrior.” He played with the turbo fox, wiggling his face plates and getting behind Spitfire’s ear.

“Huh, word travel’s fast.”

“Yep, in these walls.” He smiled standing up. 

“I should tell you my name before we start sparing shouldn’t I?”

The mech shook his helm. “Nope, don’t, neither of us are supposed to be here, no names, no trace, if we ever meet again look the other way.” He mech jokes.

Rodimus laughed. “Okay, sounds good.” He lifted his saber up and told Spitfire to leave the ring. 

Instantly the two clashed, sparks flew off their swords, their optics met, each with determination. Their peds danced and kicked up tiny clouds, circling one another. For once Rodimus didn’t hold back, the other mech wasn’t either, blades groaned at their strength.

“You’ve been trained well.” The mech noted.

“So have you, heh, my master would think that you’re my split spark twin.” Rodimus countered, grinning.

“Heh, so would mine.” he joked, shoving Rodimus back.

Rodimus landed on his aft, holding his sword up and fighting off the mech as he charged. Rodimus hissed kicking his knee, the mech fell their blades meeting one last time, they both put all their weight and strength into their blades, hearing them groan. And then the blades snapped into 4 pieces. 

“Huh,” The mech leaned back, wiggling his peds. “That hasn’t happened in awhile.”

Rodimus snorted. “Yeah, I used to break blades almost every cycle, I used to joke wi-” He paused, shutting his intake. 

The mech got up first, offering a servo. “Come on, help me clean up.”

Rodimus laughed taking it and feeling his own frame almost get ripped up off the ground. “Wow your strong.”

The mech laughed. “So are you,”

Rodimus grinned picking up the blades.

“Toss them in that shoot, we break a lot of blades down here.” The mech pointed, grabbing a rake and working on the sand. Shortly after Rodimus found a broom and started to sweep the extra sand into the pit, with ease the training area was clean and ready for another match. “Well.” The mech huffed resting his servos on his hips. “I’m not tired.”

“Neither am I.” Rodimus added.

“Hmmm…” The mech hummed. “You’ve never been to Kaon right? Or the festival?”

Rodimus shook his helm. “Nope I’m from Iacon.”

“Ah,” The mech leaned close. “Word to the wise don’t mention that to King Megatron, he doesn’t hate the city, but he gets very...intrusive and asks a million questions.”

“Huh,” Rodimus made a mental note. 

“So, wanna sneak out and have some fun at the festival?” The mech elbowed him.

Rodimus grinned. “Neither of us are supposed to be out.”

The mech rolled his optics, grinning. “I know,” he pulled two hologram repaints from his subspace and tossed one to Rodimus. “It’s not my first time.” He winked slapping his own on and activating it, turning into a seeker.

“I like your style,” He did the same also turning into a seeker. “So what do I call a stranger seeker friend of mine?”

“Ah,” The mech took a moment. “Call me Sunstorm.”

“Well then, it’s nice to meet you Sunstorm, I’m Starfire.”

They snorted and Sunstorm lead them out of the castle and into the streets of Kaon.

Kaon was filled with bright neon lights and mechs who clearly were out to party, rides, bands and fuel carts lines filled the city. Dancers performed down the street and seeker flew high above, bright colorful powder trailed after them and glittered down.

“Wow,” Starfire started wide optics at the whole city, Spitfire at his peds.

“I know right? And this is only the first night too.” Sunstorm winked grabbing Starfire’s servo and pulling him along. “You've got to try this, you haven’t been to Kaon until you have one.” They stopped by a vendor and he paid for two energon cakes on rods, the cakes were sprayed with something before being dipped into a thick syrup and finally set on fire before being cooled in a nitrogen tank. 

Starfire took his own, taking a bite, it was sour then turned sweet once he reached the cake. “What is this?”

“They call it a dragon tail,” Sunstorm said downing his before ordering 2 more. “Hide them from King Starscream’s mate Skyfire, he can’t get enough of these things.”

The vendor shushed Sunstorm. “Don’t tell him that, Skyfire’s how I make a living for 2 solar cycles!”

“Oops,” Sunstorm shrugged.

Starfire laughed and took another one before being pulled away by Sunstorm. They spend the whole night cycle out, laughing, drinking, playing games and even dancing. It has been ages since Rodimus felt this happy.

Before the sun came up they snuck back into the castle, waving bye to one another and going their separate ways. Rodimus huffed and fell on his berth, Spitfire curled against his chest. “I wish I got his name, his real name.”

Two cycles later Rodimus worked his T-cog and engine outside the city, then he loosened every wire and strut, practicing his strikes, his blocks with his saber. He vented, hearing the roar of the city inside of Kaon. Spitfire yapped and jumped up, comforting Rodimus, he smiled and patted the fox. “Thanks for the confidence.” 

Finally he turned towards the city, only to pause and look at Iacon, the sparkling speck, miles away, cycles away. He took a moment, optics watering, clutching that part of his helm, the one that still had the scratches, the dent. Even after his new repaint he refused to fix it, or polish the area, a constant reminder of what troubles his spark would get him into. 

And yet...He still felt a pull towards the city, to the castle, to run around as pirates and climb up the thrones, getting under Optimus’ peds. To sneak into the crystal gardens when the sky was clear, watch the stars fall and share a tender moment under the pink crystal tree.

Rodimus hissed, optics watering, his digits tightened around his saber’s handle. “ _ He’s not yours, _ ” He forced those thoughts away, feeling the burn in his spark, the dent in his helm. Thinking of that polished floor and his scuffed peds. “ _ He never was _ .” He cleaned his tears and marched into the city, only to stop again and hold the door open, once more he turned towards Iacon. “Wish me luck Optimus.” 

“Uh, where do I put Spitfire?” Rodimus asked looking at Skyfire.

“Uh-”

“He can sit with us.” Megatron called patting his knee, the turbo fox wagged his tail and jumped into Megatron’s lap. “Best of luck Rodimus.” The king smiled and waved.

Rodimus glanced down into the ring, watching Cyclonus fight a purple and teal mining frame in the ring. “He’s your champion?”

Megatron nodded. “Like I said best of luck.”

The crowd roared as Cyclonus fell, and was pinned with a well placed ped, the champion won. Holding his long sword up for everyone to see.

There was a brief break as the champion rested in the shade, a mini performance of two mechs blowing fire and ice out of their intakes began. Rodimus watched the champion from the other side of the ring, he chugged down energon, his blade at his side.

_ I’ve never been so nervous before. _ He thought Cyclounus would be the one to take down Kaon’s mystery champion. But instead he was easily taken care of, now on the sidelines with Tailgate in his lap, clearly...kissing?

Then the horn echoed in the ring and Rodimus watched the performers finish and leave the ring. “Never understood why Optimus would do this.” He mumbled grabbing some sand and rubbing it between his digits before stepping out.

The champion joined him, strange his frame was far lighter than it looked.

They met in the middle and faced the royals, bowing.

“I wish you the best of luck.” King Megatron said. “Now, begin!”

They turned on eachother, blades drawn. Instantly sparks flew as their blades met, the bright orange and blue particles died on the dusty sand. Their optics met and neither of them showed any emotion. The champion threw Rodimus off, and Rodimus rolled to the right, raising his blade to the mech’s helm. It was caught and this time Rodimus pushed the mech into the sand. He hissed and knocked Rodimus off of his peds. 

The crowd gasped, both of them were on their afts.

Rodimus grabbed his blade first, a fire in his chest as he charged at the mech.

The mech blocked him, venting out cold air.

They pushed their frames into their blades, their weight, everything, engine’s roaring. Rodimus growled, the mech hissed, their blue optics glaring at one another.  _ Strange, miners aren’t supposed to have blue optics. _ Then it all clicked together, Rodimus grinned. “Huh, so Sunstorm, you’re the champion.”

The mech gasped, then grinned. “Starfire, it’s been too long.”

They laughed, breaking from one another before slamming together. Their peds dancing around one another, circling, like two hungry nitro panthers, ready to lunge. Like thunder cracking they met again, and again, knocking the other off or throwing them back, blocking, striking.

“So who trained you?” Sunstorm asked, venting hard and pushing out freezing air.

Rodimus huffed expelling hot air. “The head royal guard of Iacon, Optimus, you?”

Sunstorm grinned. “King Megatron himself.”

Their blades whined as the pressure between the two of them. They both knew what was going to happen next. Their blades broke, shattering into thousands of pieces, they stumbled into one another and quickly pushed back. Huffing and glaring at one another.

The crowd gasped, never before has this happen in the ring, in practice rings, on the battlefield, only two strong mechs could shatter their blades like that.

Rodimus huffed looking at the shiny puzzle pieces that once made his blade. “Huh, I guess it’s a draw?”

“Hardly.” Sunstorm wiggled his shoulders. “Hand to hand, dirty combat now.” He charged.

Rodimus gasped, changing into his alt-mode and slammed himself into reverse, only to have Sunstorm body slam on his hood. “Oh I can work with this.”

The crowd roared as Rodimus packed up all the way around the ring, Sunstorm losing his grip, then he finally floored it forward efficiently running over the mech. And finally kicking him in the helm and jumping up.

“Oh you fight dirty!” Sunstorm yelled, spinning around.

“I learned it on the streets!” 

Sunstorm kicked him in his helm, sending Rodimus flying over the ring, his ped cold to the touch.

“Fragger.” Rodimus mumbled, once again changing into his alt and slamming into Sunstorm’s legs.

Sunstorm held on this time, punching Rodimus’ roof. “Think you can pull that trick twice?”

Rodimus laughed. “Nope, but I can do this!” he slammed on his break, changed into his root mode and slammed his helm into Sunstorm, knocking the other mech into the ring’s wall.

The crowd gasped as their champion stumbled to his peds, energon dripping down his helm. “Slag.”

Rodimus felt his dented plates, knowing he wouldn’t be able to change into his alt-mode again until they were fixed. “Slag yourself.”

Sunstorm laughed. “I had a feeling about you, you put me at ease too quickly.”

Rodimus snorted. “You’re not the only one.” He raised his servos. “Alright let’s finish this.”

Sunstorm rushed forward, his own servos ready, his peds not.

Rodimus let Sunstorm slam into him, head butting his helm, then kicking his knee and grabbing his shoulders. Easily throwing Sunstorm over his frame and then slamming into Sunstorm with his own frame.

The crowd roared and the horn sounded, the two warriors laid there exhausted, covered in energon.

“Frag you feel good.” Rodimus said loving the freezing cold frame.

“Thanks, it’s a spark condition, why are you melting?”

He shrugged. “I’m a hot helm I guess.” 

“Congratulations!” 

The ring filled with claps and small crystal flowers.

They both turned towards the King of Kaon. “Rodimus of Vos, you’ve won!”

King Starscream grinned going a quick jig to embarrass his mate and brag towards king Megatron. 

Rodimus watched as Hook sat Sunstorm down on a berth, taking off the hologram and inspecting the damage. He heard the peds steps before anything else, as king Megatron stepped in. “Well done.” He smiled at Sunstorm then at Rodimus. “Both of you.”

Sunstorm laughed and gave the king a thumbs up. “Finally feels good to have my aft handed to me again.”

Hook snorted. “You two were terrible when you were training him.” He said plugging his system’s into Sunstorm’s.

Megatron laughed, patting Rodimus’ back plates but avoiding his spoiler. “It’s been awhile.”

“Excuse me, king Megatron?” Rodimus said, feeling the dents in his frame.

“Yes?” Megatron reset his optics.

“What’s the prize?”

“Ah, you get to pick, but first I want you to meet someone.” He gestured to the now white speed frame on the berth. “Meet my pride and my spark, the heir to Kaon, Prince Deadlock.”

“PRINCE!?” Rodimus spun around and grabbed King Megatron’s servos. “If I knew he was the prince I would never-!”

Megatron laughed. “We’ve been looking for solar cycles to find a mech that could beat Deadlock in battle, and you did. Now you have two prices to pick from, 5,000,000.00 shanixs and to forget about this whole encounter,” Megatron leaned forward resting his servo on Rodimus’ shoulder. “You can become his personal guard and live under my castle as if you were my own sparkling.” 

Rodimus froze, his processor popping up with errors. “Uh, could I get...repaired first and think about it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a ton of foreshadowing and hints in this chapter, good luck! <3
> 
> This is my last fic update of the day, like I updated 6 other fics before this one, saved my personal favorite for last!


	4. The Kaon Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus isn't the only one who has nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny bit of setting/history here:  
Iacon is the oldest kingdom, there's some confusion on how the kingdom got there, Iacon is the most old fashioned kingdom. When Iacon settled they noticed a tribe of shuttle frames on the tallest peaks, however the Iaconian leaders feared the flying frames. Iaconians are easily intimidated by other frames.  
Vos is the second oldest kingdom, a group of seekers traveled far away from the biggest kingdoms looking for a new home. They instantly befriended the shuttles, who turned into great trade partners and showed them how to tame the land. Interestingly enough the main reason why the Seekers and Shuttles combined into one kingdom is due to their leaders mating in secret. (All the royals have Seeker frames but their wings are massive compared to other seekers).  
Kaon is the youngest of all the kingdoms, it was first a small mining town but was settled by a group of war frames. Kaon shortly grew into a kingdom, finding (at first) a strained relationship with Vos but the two new kings reformed a stronger bond between Kaon and Vos.

_ Hot ex-vents escaped his intake frame trying and failing to cool itself off, his insides tingled. From his back struts to spoiler, everything was buzzing with desire that burned inside him. His frame quivered and ached, as strong servo wrapped around the small of his back, it made him feel safe, and so much more. His digits traced that white chest plate a thousand times, finding exactly where to hold onto. A large servo caressed his helm and he leaned into it, his engine purring. _

_ _ _ “Rodimus.” _

_ _ _ His optics lazily opened, a small smile spread across his lip plates. “Yes?” _

_ _ _ Thunderclash chuckled, his ruby red optics shining in the night. “You’re everything I would ever want or need...” _

_ _ _ Rodimus blissfully sighed pressing his helm even deeper into that gentle servo, shutting his optics and listening to the mech under him rumble. He couldn’t think of a better place to be, a quiet berthroom, away from the world, with the one mech he loved. “Thunderclash, I don’t want to know how bleak my existence would be without you.” He vented into that warm servo, lovingly kissing it. He heard it first, the faint crunch, then there was the pain. Rodimus’ optics shot open as his digits bolted up pushing aside the massive servo. He gasped the strange dent in the side of his helm. “Thunderclash, h-how could you?” His intake squeezed down on every word, as his spark was slowly being crushed. _

_ _ _ “Rodimus I-”  _

_ _ _ Dark blue servos came from behind them, snaking up the length of Thunderclash’s frame, wrapping around the prince’s throat. Cutting off anything the prince could say, he only gasped his optics growing wide. Rodimus spun around reaching his saber, snarling. _

_ _ _ The figure was massive slamming into him and pinning him against Thunderclash. “Little runt.” It growled, dead red optics stared down at him as the beast licked its’ lips.  _

_ _ _ Rodimus felt his spark grow cold as Thunderclash’s optics flickered, his frame grew cold and wet, his plates started to turn into a thick globs of oil. It stuck to Rodimus sinking between his plates and deep into his protoform. He panicked as the beast above started to liquefy. Rodimus clawed as that white chest, pulling the rest of his now heavy frame from the jaws. His optics watered, spark in his throat, the jaws were slowly closing. He climbed over Thunderclash’s helm, glancing down to see the mech he loved in a silent scream, oil pouring from his intake and his helm sparking. His ruby optics watering and the light behind them fading. Thunderclash’s servo bolted out and grabbed Rodimus’ servo, there was a plea in those optics, Thunderclash’s intake moved trying to tell Rodimus something. The servo on his loosened and grew limb, falling into the thick oil. Slowly Thunderclash’ frame was pulled into the oil, it was drowning him. _

_ _ _ Rodimus screamed, torn between diving into the thick inky void or crawling out of the closing jaws. His helm hurt from where Thunderclash struck him, he screamed grabbing hold of the pointy teeth and pulling himself out of the beast’s jaws, his frame fell. _

It was his last day in Kaon, the festival was over. 

The cleaning solutions swirled down the drain, between his peds, with a slow vent he flicked the wash rack off and turned on the dries. Staring at his reflection in the milky glass.  _ I still haven’t turned off the offer. I could stay in Kaon, far away from Iacon. I could start over here. _ He shook the rest of the fluid off his plates and stepped out. There was morning refuel with the royals, that was his only plans for the day, later on king Starscream and the champions would return to Vos.

Rodimus vented, there was nothing in Vos for him.

He left the wash rack, Spitfire was jumping up and down next to the berthroom door, yapping. “I know, I know, you want to get fed by everyone, huh? Spoil little bastard.” They stepped out and made their way towards the refueling hall.

Rodimus waited watching as all sorts of mechs chatted, passing energon left and right, telling great stories. He felt small, like he wasn’t suppose to be here, out of place.

Then Spitfire yapped and bolted onto the table where the mech laughed and threw food at him, the turbo fox caught each piece and gulped it down.

A mech elbowed him, and Rodimus turned towards a strange looking ground frame, the frame smiled. “Hey Starfire, you going to join or just watch?”

Rodimus smiled. “Sure, Sunstorm.”

Deadlock grabbed him by his servo and pulled him along, the two plopped into a couple of seats and started filling up their plates. Deadlock joked and told stories with the other mechs, tossing treats to Spitfire.

Rodimus drank his cube, sinking into his seat, lazily he turned towards king Megatron, who quietly sipped on his own cube. He had dark circles under his optics, and his gaze was distant. Rodimus turned towards his cube, seeing his own reflection, amused that he had the exact same expression on his face plates.

  
  


_ _ _ Rodimus slammed into the cold ground, his helm spinning, he smelt fire and bolted up, grabbing his saber. He felt his spark drop, staring at Iacon’s throne room. He cupped his intake, optics watering, this was his home, where he would play, where he learned how to speak, how to read, how to fight. He felt powerless as the corpses littered the throne room, servants, guards, mechs he trained with, mechs who helped him. Their helms were removed. _

_ _ _ What shocked him to his core was the throne’s, Thunderclash’s was knocked over, broken in two, his frame gone. And there was king Ultra Magnus, his frame still standing, holding a sword up, helmless. _

_ _ _ He heard it, deep in the castle, the clash of swords. There was one mech who would not crumble. “Optimus.” He mumbled, his lip plates felt numb as his peds tore over the lifeless frames and into the winding halls. He followed those sounds, the grunts, the laughing. He stumbled down into the servant’s quarters. Servants screamed and clawed at the windows, trying to escape. Optimus stood proudly, but his optics grew dull, his frame covered in cuts that welled up. Between Rodimus and Optimus there was a tall blue mech, laughing. “Optimus!” Rodimus pulled his saber. _

_ _ _ “R-Rodimus?” Optimus weakly blocked another strike. “Get out of here!” _

_ _ _ Rodimus growled slamming into the mech. “No! Workers leave now!” _

_ _ _ They screamed scurrying away from the battle. _

_ _ _ The mech kicked him off, slamming a ped down on Rodimus’ chest. Still laughing. _

_ _ _ “GET OFF OF HIM!” Optimus charged forward. _

_ _ _ The mech laughed his saber much faster, it sliced through Optimus’ chest. Optimus’ saber dropped, his mismatched optics twitching, oil spilling out of his battle mask. _

_ _ _ “NO!” Rodimus howled, lifting the ped off of him and throwing the mech off. The mech stumbled and Rodimus roared tackling the mech, his servos far faster than the mech’s. They grabbed the mech’s helm. With a cry that came from a spark eater Rodimus tore the mech’s helm off. The frame went still under him and they collapsed into a pile. The helm bounced away he watched it, his frame freezing. _

_ _ _ It was still laughing, staring right into Rodimus’ spark. Two sets of optics watched him, one was clearly filled with joy, the other was sobbing. Their intakes were connected, the rest of their face plates were twisted together in a disgusting display. Both Overlord and Thunderclash stared at him, one laughing the other sobbing. _

_ _ _ Rodimus backed away, fear striking his spark as a servo landed on his shoulder. “Optimus?” He turned towards the dying mech, taking that servo into his own. “Optimus?” _

_ _ _ Optimus battle mask slid back, energon bubbling up and out of it. “Hi Rodimus, been awhile.” _

_ _ _ “You’re dying, just shut up and I’ll get Ratchet an-” _

_ _ _ “It’s okay kid, it’s okay.” _

_ _ _ His intake once again grew tight and his optics watered. “N-no it’s not, you’re dying.” _

_ _ _ Optimus laughed pulling him into a hug. “That’s okay, I least I did something right.” _

_ _ _ “What are you talking about?” _

_ _ _ Optimus squeezed Rodimus. “I need you to know that I’m so proud of you, that you’re the best creation any creator could ask for.” He smiled, energon staining his lip plates. _

_ _ _ He couldn’t speak, his optics watering at the sight of his mentor, the closest thing he had to a creator, a sire figure slowly fade away. _

_ _ _ “Rodimus, I need you to go, go far away from Iacon. Go to Kaon, go to king Megatron, you’ll be safe there, and you can start over again.” _

_ _ _ “I don’t want to start over again.” he finally said, washer fluid ran down his face plates. _

_ _ _ “You’ll have to kid, there’s nothing here for you...You’ll be fine,” he vented his frame turning gray. “Rodimus could you go me a favor, when you meet king Megatron, I need you to give him a hug, and I…” he swallowed back his own energon. “I need you to tell him that I’m sorry.” _

_ _ _ “What?” He croaked out. _

_ _ _ Optimus smiled. “I love you so much,” he gasped out, his frame shorting out and slumping, optics growing dark. _

_ _ _ “OPTIMUS!”  _

_ _ _ The heads still laughed, the other still sobbed. _

_ _ “OPTIMUS!” Rodimus jerked up out of his berth, already holding his saber, his spark racing. He dropped his saber curling up into a ball, clutching his helm, optics flooding. He shook, and tried to vent. His processor racing. He didn’t even notice Spitfire clawing at his peds.

Once the room stopped spinning Rodimus dared to look out of his tiny fortress, meeting Spitfire who started to clean his face. He took shaky vents trying to regain some control over his frame.  _ Move! _ It was simple order, he could follow simple orders, his peds touched the cold floor and he stood. He stumbled to the door, Spitfire behind him. 

Rodimus wandered through the halls, they were unfamiliar, there were no long curtains, no gold tapestries.  _ Not home, not Iacon.  _ He wasn’t sure where he was going, all he knew was that he couldn’t recharge again. There was a gentle breeze and he turned towards it, stepping onto a balcony that looked over Kaon. His digits held onto the railing, bending and twisting it.

“Couldn’t recharge?”

He gasped and spun towards the voice, meeting king Megatron face to face.

“Yeah, I know that look.”

His optics watered and his frame moved without him, he slammed into Megatron, hugging the king with every ounce of strength he had.

“OOOF!” Megatron stumbled back, freezing for a moment before batting Rodimus’ helm.

Rodimus didn’t understand it, but his optics grew fuzzy from more tears, he struggled to vent and he sobbed.

Megatron paused before hugging him back. “It’s okay, I get those too, you saw something you didn’t want to.”

Rodimus nodded. “I...Someone told me to give you a hug, and I think...I think I need it too.”

Megatron patted his back plates. “It’s okay kid, it’s okay.”

He cried harder, his frame shaking.

“Want to talk about it?”

He shook his helm, unable to speak anymore.

Megatron vented. “Alright, that’s okay. Deadlock used to get theses all the time, after...after something happened.” He cleared his intake. “I still get them myself, things that I don’t want to see.”

Rodimus slowly retracted his arms from the king, feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry I wa-”

Megatron pulled him close. “It’s okay...I actually had one myself, I’ve had it before, they come back every now and then. I have two different ones.” He vented and leaned over the railing, rubbing his face from exhaustion before opening his intake. “I lost someone that I barely knew and the mech I loved, it’s always him, no matter what, it’s only him. He’s sitting there in some tent, another mech is there. The other mech slowly and painfully removes his plates, his armor. His optics are distance and he doesn’t let out a sound as he’s stripped to his proto-form. Then new plates are added, he’s someone else, his optics grow hard, his face his hidden, and...he’s not mine anymore, and I know he’ll never return.”

Rodimus leaned into king Megatron’s frame, still shaking. “I...I’m sorry.”

Megatron snorted. “It’s not your fault.”

His peds dragged, Spitfire yapped at him, trying to play. Rodimus vented and leaned against the wall. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Hey!”

He jumped spinning around to find Deadlock running towards him. “Yeah?”

Deadlock wrapped an arm around Rodimus’ shoulder’s. “Primus you’re bummed, who spat in your energon?”

Rodimus frowned. “I’m just not having a good day.”

“Yeah I’ve noticed, you’re not the only one...Wanna go to the outback and do some racing?”

“Huh? Racing?”

“Yeah,” Deadlock poked his chest. “You’re a speed-frame aren’t you?”

“I’ve...I’ve never really raced.”

“What?!” Deadlock screeched. “Never? How? It’s normal for speed frames like us.” He grabbed Rodimus’ arm. “Come on, race now, talk later!”

Rodimus stumbled after him, leaving Spitfire behind.

"How have you not ever raced?!" Deadlock yelled his alt mode speeding over a dune, catching some air. Deadlock in mid-air changed into his root-mode and grinned. 

Rodimus pulled up next to him. "Didn't have much free time when I was little?"

Deadlock's vents huffed creating a small dust cloud. "You never went zoomies?"

"'Zoomies'?" 

"AAHH! YOU'RE KILLING ME RODDY!" Deadlock grabbed at his finals and pulled at them. Then in a flash he changed back into his alt-mode, his back tired kicked up sand and his white frame tore over the plains. 

Rodimus listened to Deadlock's engine the rough but fun shifting, he watched as Deadlock effortlessly drifted to a stop next to him. "Zoomies."

Rodimus laughed, finding first gear. "Alright give me some time to a-"

Deadlock slapped his spoiler. "Tag you're it!" and the prince was gone in a roar and a dust cloud.

"Oh it's on!" Rodimus yelled, throwing himself into 2nd gear and flying after the white mech. Deadlock used long lines and sudden drifts to avoid Rodimus, kicking up sand in to his grill.

"Fragger!"

"Come on I'm going easy on you!"

Rodimus hissed his tires kicking up dust as he bounded after Deadlock. He watched Deadlock's tires, the slight twitch in the dirt. He was gonna drift soon. Rodimus watched him, pulling his brakes just right into the turn and following Deadlock. His frame spun more the he thought, throwing up a huge dust cloud. Rodimus watched the white frame, putting himself into reverse and catching Deadlock just as the prince left the cloud.

They were bumper to bumper, windshield to windshield. They slowed to a stop, bursting into laughter.

"Okay you're catching on a lot quicker," Deadlock once more too to his root mode, shaking the sand out of his plates. "First time drifting?"

Rodimus did the same picking out dirt from his digits. "Yeah, it's fun."

"We still haven't raced yet," Deadlock hummed, glancing around the sandy plains, then he froze. "There," He pointed to a dip in the sand. "Stop just at the edge, alright?"

Rodimus grinned. "Alright,"

They both changed into their alt-modes, engines revving.

"On the count of 3," Deadlock's engine roared. "3!" and the prince bounded over the sand.

"Hey!" Rodimus followed his engine burning hot. Catching up to Deadlocks white frame, they raced side by side. The plains blurring. Then Deadlock slammed on his brakes, Rodimus did the same skidding to a stop. "Woah." he was at the lip of the canyon.

Deadlock joined him, the two looking out. "Pretty isn't it?

There were stanger formations ones that would cut the clouds, other's were red, green and even blue. Energon river cut through it all. "What is this place?"

"This? It's a park, one my great, great carrier put under protection." Deadlock patted Rodimus' shoulder. "Mechs of all ages come here to explore, I figured you might like it."

"Thunderclash would-" Rodimus bit the inside of his intake, tasting energon. "It's… It's speechless."

Deadlock nodded. "Come on," he took the stairs passing a grand-sire with a few grand creations hanging off of him. Deadlock ran right to the river jumping in and waving Rodimus in. Rodimus joined him, shivering at the cold energon he swam over to the boulders and climbed up onto one of them, loving the hot sun. Deadlock stayed in the river pulling out oil fish by their mouths. Shortly after they shook the energon off their frames and climbed out of the valley. Towards a platu, once on top they watched some cuber eagles leave the nest.

Deadlock laid agisnt the rough rock, crossing his arms under his helm. "You doing alright?"

Rodimus shrugged, staring at the last eagle who still wore his unpolished plates. "I'm still debating if I should stay or go," he vented.

"Ah, well what's out there for you?"

"Nothing, part of me wants to go back home, but I left for a good reason."

"I don't want to prod but, what happened?"

"I made a mistake, a very dumb mistake." Rodimus shook his plates as the eagle finally took off. "I'm not ready to go back."

Deadlock shrugged. "Then don't."

"King Megatron?" Rodimus poked his helm into the dinning hall, empty. He frowned, "Okay not in the lower halls, the throne room, and the dinning hall. Hmm," he tapped his ped glancing down the stairs and to the parallel stairs. The west(right?) wing, he was told to stay out of it. But that was only for the festival, right? 

Rodiums sat at the bottom of the steps, helm in servos. "Where is the king?" he thought back to Iacon’s castle, and King Ultra Magnus activities. "Refuel, meeting, reading, council meeting, refuel, rest… then he just rested more and more. I hope his spark is okay." he groaned, that didn't help at all. He needed to find King Megatron. Where could the king be? Rodimus stared up the stairs, holding his vents. Quietly he ventured up the steps and pressed open the door. 

He shivered as a cool gust of wind ran over his plates, he checked if he was alone before shutting the door behind him. 

There was a gentle gust that swept through the halls, the torn up curtains rolled gently in the wind. The stain glass windows were smashed under them were small wells of water. It smelt of rust and must, dust covered everything. The walls were oddly light blue, with small decorations of stars, under the stars were servo prints, very tiny servo prints.

Rodimus leaned down, looking at the two sets of servos, one was red the other was blue. He ran his digit over the red servos then the blue. “What is this place?” He mumbled, getting to his peds. He trailed down the halls to one of the rooms, with blue servo prints, slowing he pressed it open and looked in. 

Rodimus couldn’t help but smiled, finding a rather cute but dusty sparkling room. The berth was pressed against the wall, a small rug took up the middle of the room. Stuffed animals lined the walls, tiny books sat on shelves.

He stepped back closing the door behind him, turning back down the hall. Another cool gust of wind slammed into his frame, Rodimus shivered. His spark started to race as his numb peds carried him down the hall. 

He froze, turning to another room, with red servo prints, the door was torn hanging open, a good clunk of it was ripped off. Rodimus glanced into the room, holding his vents. It was destroyed, the window was broken, like someone threw something out of it. The tiny berth was on the floor in two, stuffed animals were thrown about, there were scorch marks on the walls, dried energon.

He backed away from the room, clutching his spark, struggling to vent. Spinning around away from the final room down the hall. Instead he booked it out of the west wing. 

Deadlock hummed chewing on some energon gummy’s, he turned to Megtron. “Hey, creator, were you in the mines again?” 

Megatron nodded, sipping his cube, covered in dirt and soot. 

Rodimus stared at the strange picture, the king worked in the mines? 

Spitfire yapped between Megatron’s peds, wagging his tail. “I hope you didn’t mind Rodimus, Spitfire just wanted to come with me.” He patted the turbo fox’s helm.

“So that’s were you’ve been?” Rodimus leaned down and felt the fox barrel into his arms, whining. 

“Little guy stole the show in the mines, carrying energon to the miners.”

Rodimus laughed. “He’s pretty smart.”

“He is.” Megatron glanced down at his servos. “Excuse me I must rinse off, if you want I could take care of Spitfire?”

Rodimus glanced down at his chest, frowning. “I think I’ll need one myself, I’ll take care of Spitfire.”

Megatron nodded. 

“Wait.” Rodimus stood up, Spitfire in his arms. “I wanted to say, that I agree, I’ll be prince Deadlock’s guard.”

The two royals froze, Deadlock grinning and a small smile gracing the king’s intake. Before Rodimus knew it Deadlock slammed into him, hugging him, only for the king to pick up both of them in his arms in a massive hug. Efficiently covering them in a thick layer of black dust.

The streets were busy, selling gummies, polish, strange new oils. Sunstorm easily moved between mechs, navigating the madness, Star Fire had more of a problem. He fought his way through the crowds and finally stopped next to Sunstorm, venting. “How do you do it?”

Sunstorm shrugged. “It’ll come to you.”

Star Fire huffed. “Alright, what’s the plan today?” 

“Ah,” Sunstorm slapped his servos together, a tiny grin spreading over his face. “I just blew 500 shanex on a energon treat that Megatron love.”

Star Fire reset his optics. “Why?”

Sunstorm threw his arm around Star Fire. “Trust me, every solar cycle around this time Megatron...he gets...he drags his peds,” Sunstorm waved his servo around. “So as a way to cheer him up I get him a treat.”

“Huh, that’s nice.” 

“Yeah, something small.”

“Any idea why?” Star Fire followed Sunstorm into the marketplace.

“I’m not sure, ever since I was a sparkling nipping at his peds he just acted like this. But I guess when I brought him flowers and treats he brightened up. He just mumbles a lot around this time, spends a lot of time in the west wing.”

“Oh,” He felt his plating rise at that, his spark started to spin wildly in his chest.

“Why didn’t you bring Spitfire along?”

Star Fire frowned. “Spitfire must’ve picked up on your creator’s field, or something, little guy didn’t even sleep with me last night cycle.”

Deadlock was right, the king was like a ghost, something unworldly wandering the halls. His helm hung, his optics dark and his peds moved as if they were welded to the flooring. The king was lost in his own tiny world behind those pained expressions.

They found him on a small patio overlooking the other two cities, slumped in a chair and covered in mining dust. 

Deadlock nudged Rodimus’ side, gesturing to the king saying ‘see, I told you so’.

The faint clack alerted Spitfire, the turbofox’s helm poked out, his ears pointed towards the two of them before huffing and laying back down.

“Did you enjoy your outing today?” The king called, not looking away from the horizon.

“Yes.” Deadlock stepped forward holding a cool container that held a 500 frozen copper energon oil cake. He placed it on the table, sitting on the other side of Megatron.

Rodimus felt odd, out of place, a good part of him wanted to comfort the king but another part of him told him to stand and guard. He grit his denta and gave into his training, taking a quick sweep of the skyline and the whole patio before standing at the crystal doors. Optimus always said this was where kings would open their sparks out, and where to learn some royal secrets. 

Megatron slumped against the table, holding his helm up on his servo. “I made a deal with you, yes?”

Deadlock nodded. 

“What was it again?”

“That if we were to find a proper royal guard, that you would allow me more…”

“Freedom.” Megatron vented, his red optics trailing towards the oil cake. “Thank you,” There was a small smile but his face still dropped. “You know Deadlock, that I worry about you, no matter what, and I understand that it’s...suffocating. Holo-frames, lies, and the restrictions.”

“Yes but creator you-”

Megatron put his servo on Deadlock’s shoulder, sliding a datapad. “It’s no secret that I’m distant with royal gatherings, such as dances, and celebrations, even bonding ceremonies. But,” 

Deadlock picked up the datapad, skimming through it. “Creator?”

“I made a deal, and I will respect that deal.”

“What is this?”

Megatron forced a smile. “It's another excuse for Iacon to celebrate something so minuscule as a pre-bonding party. We’ve been invited but...I’m not one for parties and over the top gaudy outfits.”

Rodimus felt his spark ache, his tanks twist and turn.  _ No, Primus please don’t let it be! _

_ _ Deadlock grinned reading the datapad. “So, you’re allowing me,”

“And Rodimus, you’re not going anywhere without Rodimus.”

“You’re allowing Rodimus and I to attend a royal dance? In Iacon?” 

Megatron huffed. “Yes,” He really was starting to eye the oil cake. 

“Rodimus you hear that?” Deadlock jumped up and rushed towards Rodimus.

“Y-yeah!” He forced a smile, a twinge in his spark told him this was a bad idea.

Deadlock threw Rodimus over his shoulder, thanking his creator and rushing out of the king’s quarters. Rodimus watched as Megatron stared at them, his face plates pale, Spitfire whined. “We’re gonna go to a dance!”

Rodimus wiggled in the white mech’s arm, it’s been ages since someone would lift him like this, and no one had this much power. “Yay!” He pumped his fist into the air and felt dread in his spark. 

Deadlock tossed Rodimus onto his massive berth. “What do I wear, what do I wear?!”

Rodimus sunk into the berth, listening to Deadlock’s mad raving.  _ It’ll be fun, and maybe it’s not what you think it is. Also you can see Optimus again… _ “Deadlock?”

The prince stopped. “Yes?”

“Who...who’s the party for?”

“Oh ummmm… ‘You’re invited to the soon to be bonding of king Overlord and Prince Thunderclash.’”

He expected sadness, grief, longing? Something like that. Instead he hissed, his spark burning. Rodimus sat up in the berth. “Alright, if we’re going you’re going to steal the show.”

Deadlock reset his optics. “What?”

Rodimus rose to his ped, poking Deadlock in the chest. “You’re the prince of Kaon, this is your first dance and by Primus you’re going to catch everyone’s optic and no one is going to be looking at the other royals.”

Deadlock cocked an optic ridge. “I like where you’re going with this.”

Rodimus grinned.  _ Thunderclash, you’ve got a storm coming and I’m going to make sure this will be a dance you’ll never forget.  _

_ _ _ Deadlock you’re going to shock the whole party into Hatchet’s medbay!  _ Rodimus lifted up the long red drapes. “What are Kaon’s colors again?”

“Gold, red and copper.” Deadlock called from the wash rack, giving himself a good scrub from sanding his base coat off. 

“Alright.” He heaved the drapes off, then the metals and a few tassels tossing all of them onto the berth. Rodimus paused looking at the royal outfit. “Where’s your paint?”

“In that case by the window.” Deadlock stepped out, his frame clear of any paint, scuffs dents. With a fuzzy cloth he dabbed away any left over cleansing buff liquid and dried his frame. “This is weird.”

Rodimus nodded. “Yeah,” He picked up the case, finding all sorts of colors and various sprays. “Let’s see.” Deadlock was already eye catching by Iaconian standards, he had this deadly pointing to him, his fangs from his pointy finals, not to mention those intense red optics. “Iaconians like...they like flashy, over the top outfits, a mech came to a ball wearing some strange fuzzy cloth over his shoulders, freaked me out with the fake eyes.”

Deadlock’s finals shot forward. “You’ve been to an Iaonian ball?”

Rodimus grit his denta, it was only a matter of time before he slipped up. “Y-yea, I uh, I was a royal guard there.”

“And you left?” Deadlock’s helm tilted to the side, making him look less deadly and giving Rodimus a few ideas.

“Well… I,” He vented rubbing his helm. “I left for a good reason.”

“Oh, and…?”

He vented, digging his digits into the cases’ lip, feeling the tiny dents. “I made a mistake, so I left.”

Deadlock reset his optics, shrugging. “Okay, so how do we?” He gestured to the set.

Rodimus shook his frame. “Ah, now that’s the best part, see this.” He held up his arm. “I went to a paint shop, they didn’t do too good of a job but I patched it up, and had areas touched up.” He glanced down at the colors, picking up white. “Okay so, Iacon doesn’t know what simple is, they really don’t, once you step into the royal palace it’s so,” he stuck his tongue out. “Unlike them we’re gonna not go crazy with jewels and gross fuzzy things. I’m thinking of a base coat of shimmering white, then this dark red to highlight your optics. Then some highlights of copper.” He then gestured to the few fabrics on the berth. 

“Ooooh, alright. But,” He placed his servo on Rodimus’. “I got an idea, what if I’m not the only one getting touched up?”

He paused, a tiny grin growing on his intake plates. “Are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we’re going to look like a couple of studs.”

“Hold still, I need to clip this on.” Deadlock grumbled, locking Rodimus still by his spoiler, then tossing another long silver drape over the sparkling blue appendage. Then he backed away from his work. “Oh, OHHH,” He nodded grinning “Rodimus you look like you fell from the stars.”

He rolled his optics turning towards the mirrors, his spark stopping. He buffed off his blue/purple coat and his yellow/orange coat under, then they picked a slightly darker blue and purple but made it a shimmering coat. Then Deadlock touched him up with silver trim. In the right lighting he looked like he was a whole universe. The silver drape wrapped over his spoiler and shoulders. What truly shocked him was that Deadlock didn’t fix his dent, instead it looked like there was a tare in the stars, filling in the dent with silver and white.

“Pardon.” King Megatron stepped in covering his optics and knocking on the door.

“You’re fine creator.” Deadlock called, his own top coat drying.

Megatron stood tall looking at the two mech. “Wow, not bad.”

“I know right?” Deadlock gestured to Rodimus. “My work.”

Rodimus snorted, gesturing to Deadlock. “My work.” he mimicked the prince.

“Ah I might have something.” The king shuffled towards his own quarters only to come back a few moments later holding two new drapes and a few metal pins. “Here,” He handed one to Deadlock then Rodimus.

“Oooo.” Deadlock wiggled looking at the fancy new red drape with silky white and specks of copper.

Rodimus stared down at the metal, it was a star, it flashed between his digits. He wrapped his drape around his neck, then down his spoiler, looking at his reflection to find that the blackish blue fabric had constellations. 

Deadlock stood next to him, his metal was a sun, pinned slightly to the right, his fabric was draped over his elbows. “We’re gonna kill it.” He grinned flashing his fangs.

“You’re gonna kill it.” Rodimus playfully shoved Deadlock.

Deadlock shoved him back. “No WE’RE going to kill it!”

They broke into laughter, tried from the work but pleased. Deadlock rushed to the wash rack to put a sealant over his coat. Rodimus jumped feeling Megatron’s servo on his shoulder, he turned toward the king. Megatron lowered his helm. “If anything happens to either of you I will tear that kingdom apart from the very roots until I know you’re safe.”

Rodimus cleared his intake, only Optimus occasionally offered that kind of protection, and that was rare. “Don’t worry, your creation will be safe.”

Megatron started into his optics. “I mean both of you, if either of you comes to harm there is no mech that Primus has created that will stop me. You’re a good guard Rodimus, even a better friend for Deadlock. To me you’re part of this family, it may be small and broken in areas but I need you both to come back safe. I can’t lose anyone else.”

Rodimus glanced down at his peds, venting. “I promise king Megatron, you won’t lose either of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That image of Thunderclash's and Overlord's helms melted together? Yeah I got that image from The Thing 1982.  
THE PLOT THICKENS!


	5. Take My Breath Away But You're At A Royal Ball Watching Your Ex-lover Dancing With Someone Else Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C4ZmFmEGRhM  
What to expect:  
Angst  
Swing Dancing  
The need to tear out someone's tongue  
FUCK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found out it's someone's birthday and I know they read this fic so! ;) You're a huge sweetie! Take ass and kick names!

The moon glittered off their polished frames, wrapping around their frame’s curves, the headlights cut through the darkness. Twin engines sung out in the endless void, tearing over the desert. Behind them was Kaon, the kingdom that was half underground, in the foothills of the great magnesium mountains. They were just passing Vos, the magnificent city in the sky. Not once did they turn away, their tires locked on the small sparkling lights in the distance.

Before the sun rose they crossed into Iacon’s territory, their wheels ached and their engines burned. Rodimus slowed to a stop, changing into his alt mode, taking in a deep cycle of air. Iacon was the kingdom that had the richest vegetation, the cleanest air and the finest energon, then again it is the oldest kingdom. 

His finals sunk back.

“Rodimus?” Deadlock stood next to him, placing a comforting servo on his shoulder. 

Rodimus took a moment, looking at the crystal trees that now bloomed, he grit his denta, forcing out a vent. “Hm?”

“You’ve been quiet, what’s going on?”

He stared up at the tiny crystal buds, his spark sinking, they were falling when he flew down this stretch of road. He just packed up and left, it was sun set and he left his life behind. “I’m fine.”

Deadlock frowned. “No, you’re not.”

He shut his optics, trying to think of something else, anything else. Not him, not that shiny ballroom floor and his dented peds.  _ Not him, not that moment, anything else, anything! _ He heard the soft babbling of a brook. Rodimus wandered into the crystal forest, following the gentle sound. He stopped looking down at the stream, instantly recognizing it. 

He was small, hardly a full solar cycle into his training, his tiny frame was still getting used to the heavy blade. To his surprise he recharged well into the day that cycle, only to wake up to Optimus sitting on his berth, hot energon in servo. 

Optimus’ optics crinkled, it took several solar cycles for Rodimus to know that his captain was smiling under his mask. “Wake up, we’ve got a lot of driving ahead of us today.” He ruffed Rodimus’ helm.

Rodimus drank down the sweet blend and following his captain out of the castle, Iron Hide and Jazz were left in charge. Optimus soon left the capital Crystal city with Rodimus in tow, they drove for a good part of the cycle. Stopping at a few places for them to refuel, it was well into the cycle that they came upon the small brook. 

“Captain?” He blinked staring down at the pink stream.

Optimus’ optics crinkled again. “I figured you deserve a break from training, when I first arrived in Iacon I found this brook. I wanted to share it with you.”

Rodimus frowned, what was he suppose to do with a stupid brook?

Optimus slapped his back, Rodimus tumbled forward and fell into the cold stream.

“Hey!” Rodimus sat up, fuming.

Optimus chuckled jumping into the stream, splashing Rodimus.

Rodimus hissed, splashing his captain back.

It was only when the sun went down did they leave the brook, Rodimus’ peds dragged, his frame shivered. Optimus carried him home in his cab, Rodimus fell into recharge in his front cushions, listening to the powerful engine’s purr under him. When they finally reached the castle-

Rodimus cut that memory off, slumping with his peds in the brook.

“Rodimus?” Deadlock sat next to him.

He vented, shutting his optics. “I told you that I used to be a guard in Iacon right?”

“Yes.” Deadlock stared down at their reflections.

His spark twisted. “I left for a good reason, a stupid mistake.”

“What was it?”

Rodimus stared at his own reflection, watching the water distort his destroyed final. “I did the one thing a guard should never do, I fell in love with the prince.”

Instantly Deadlock’s vents grew tight.

Rodimus laughed, it was dry and his intake tightened. “On one servo I’m happy to see my old captain again, on the other I have to face him.”

“Is it prince Thunderclash?”

He nodded, slumping. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Deadlock placed a servo on his back, rubbing it in comforting circles.

“My captain, Optimus, he pretty much raised me, trained me from a mechling. One cycle he took me here, I never seen him so happy. He carried me back to the castle, and tucked me in. Then the prince snuck into my hab with warm copper energon, I don’t even remember falling into recharge, only that I woke up next to him.” Rodimus snarled at his reflection, wishing that he could travel back in time and tell his younger self to not befriend Thunderclash, to not stare at the young prince when he was on duty, not to join him in his berth late into the cycle. To tell his stupid spark to not falter and fall into that horrible pit. He didn’t even notice his tears, only when they fell into the energon.

Deadlock pulled him into a hug, patting his spoiler. “It’s okay.”

He let out a broken sound, like his engine tried to start but stuttered and died, his intake wailed and his vision grew blurry. Rodimus fell into Deadlock’s arms, he was thankful for his friend, wanting Optimus there to comfort him too. Slowly he regained himself, clearing his intake. He stumbled to his peds, shaking himself. “We’re going to be late.”

Deadlock wrapped a comforting arm around him. “Rodimus we don’t have to do this, we can turn around and go back home.”

Rodimus stubbornly shook his helm. “No,” He stared at the castle that looked like a blob. 

“Is that the reason why we look so...elegant?”

Rodimus snorted. “Yes and no, I wanted you to stand out, for Iacon to know that Kaon is better then them and their stupid jewels. And well I wanted him to see us, see you and me, and rue the day he tore my spark out.” He hissed.

Deadlock snorted. “You should really get with my creator when he’s had too much energex.”

“I know a good place to clean up and give us another polish and wax.” He stomped out of the forest. He changed into his alt mode, Deadlock did the same. They drove for a few spark beats in completely quiet.

“Hey Rodimus?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Deadlock trailed a little bit behind. “What’s it like, you know, being in love? I asked my creator and all he says is it’s a curse.”

Rodimus slowed to hover next to Deadlock.  _ He’s never really visited the outside world, all he knows is Kaon. It’s hard to picture Megatron saying that. I don’t want to lie and I can’t tell him how it feels when things fall apart. _ Rodimus sped up. “It’s strange, it’s different for everyone. I hear it’s sticky and you’re stuck to a mech with glue, or that it’s gentle and cozy.”

“What was it like for you?”

Rodimus’ chest ached, his engine whined. “It,” He had to be honest, cut out the bad parts, keep those fond memories. “I felt safe, like I could tell him anything and nothing bad would happen. That everything made sense and everything was going to be okay.”

Deadlock didn’t say anything, joining Rodimus once again. “I hope when he sees you he breaks, and recognizes that you’re better than whoever this king Overlord is.”

Rodimus chuckled. “Thank you.”

Finally they reached the capital of Iacon, the sun had set and the sky was filled with blue hues that turned purple as the sun sank. The city buzzed with life, yellow lights lit the streets and young mechs partook in the night life of Iacon.

They slowed to a stop, changing into their root modes once again, their tires hot from the cycles worth of driving. Deadlock frowned, his optics wandering up from Rodimus’ peds to his face. “You’re filthy.”

Rodimus stuck out his tongue. “So are you, it’s the dry season, I hope you’re not sensitive to flakes.” He elbowed Deadlock’s side. “Come on, there’s a good wash rack over here.” He led them down an alley, wrapping an arm around Deadlock’s shoulders. They stopped by a spa, paying for a quick wash and top coat with his own shanix. 

“But, we’ll be late?”

Rodimus snorted. “Trust me, being late is exactly what you want, and right now we’re already late.”

Deadlock stepped into the rack, Rodimus grabbed the spray gun. “Wait that doesn’t make sense?”

Rodimus grinned. “Trust me it will,”

He took a moment, his spark doing zoomies in his chest, his intake was dry and his spoiler couldn’t sit still. The steps, he kept staring at the marble steps, the same steps that were once massive against his peds. Each step felt like another mile up a mountain, that he would climb over them just to keep up with Optimus.

_ “Come on Rodimus, you’re falling behind!” _

_ _ _ “You’ve got longer legs!” _

_ _ He shoved the memory away, buried it with the others.

“Rodimus?”

He forced a smile, facing Deadlock who was waiting for him. “Sorry.” He jogged up the steps, finding it oddly sobering that he felt like he was climbing a mountain. 

They crossed the crystal garden, it was filled with mechs, royals in heavy jewels and stupid metal work. Some paused and turned towards them, utterly in shock.

Deadlock leaned in. “I get what you mean, ew.”

Rodimus chuckled. “Wait until you see who the party is for, they’re nothing but a walking mine.”

They stopped at the elegant front doors, two spears lowered against their chests, Deadlock flinched his servo reaching for a long sword that wasn’t there. Rodimus rested his servo on Deadlock’s shoulder. He cleared his intake and turned towards Iron Hide, pulling out the invite. “Our apologies for being late,”

Iron Hide took the data-pad, skimming it over his face loosening in disbelief. “No way, Kaon?”

“What?” Jazz yanked the data-pad out of Iron Hide’s digits, reading it over. “Kaon!?”

Rodimus heard the royal mechs laying about gasping, some dropping their cubes, others started whispering. He couldn’t help the greasy feeling of self satisfaction bubbling up in his chest. “Precisely, may I introduce the prince of Kaon,” He gestured to Deadlock. “Deadlock, the sly.”

Jazz and Iron Hide stared at the two of them. Jazz shrugged, tossing the data-pad back to Rodimus. “It checks out,” The two guards lifted their spears, allowing them to pass.

“Is that?” Jazz whispered.

“It is, Rodimus is back home.”

They stopped, Deadlock gasped, while Rodimus shut his vents.

Elegant blue gold and white banners and silk streamers hung from the chandelier, massive hanging decals littered every column, lights flickered. Shiny confetti fluttered down onto the mechs. The whole room was packed with royals, from dukes to war heroes, even king Starscream was there (clearly bored). King Ultra Magnus sat on his throne, chatting with Getaway, both were covered helm to ped in jewels. Optimus stood a little away, bearing nothing fancy for the occasion and only watching with his hard optics.

Surly but slowly mechs stopped chatting, dancing, turning to them.

Deadlock leaned in. “Uh,” The ballroom stilled, staring at them. “Is this normal?”

Rodimus opened his intake but froze himself, as mechs stilled they started to reveal two frames that were still dancing. Two massive blue frames, Overlord was covered in gold and dark red rubies, and Thunderclash was in silver with bright red rubies, exchanging their colors to show who was being bonded off. Unknown to the two soon to be bonded the world around them stopped, and they tripped on some poor duke and fell into a pile. Overlord got to his peds first, then pulled Thunderclash up, the two of them turning to face Deadlock and Rodimus.

Overlord sneered.

Thunderclash watched with his dead red optics.

It felt like someone stabbed his spark and now the blade was twisting at a glacial pace. Rodimus grit his denta.

King Ultra Magnus rose to his peds. “Welcome,” He nodded, his familiar voice setting Rodimus’ burning spark at ease. “Thank you for joining us…?”

Rodimus forced his anger down. “Prince Deadlock, from the Kaon kingdom.” He gestured to Deadlock.

The whole ballroom filled with life, mechs came up, asking questions.

“Kaon?”

“He doesn’t look like he’s from Kaon?”

“Aren’t they supposed to be big and scary?”

“I love your paint, who did it?”

Deadlock scooted to Rodimus, latching into Rodimus’ arm. “What do I do?”

“Answer them, be polite, don’t give away anything king Megatron wouldn’t.” 

Deadlock’s claws dug between his seams into his protoform. “What if-”

Rodimus chuckled, turning towards the mechs. “Yes, Kaon. Trust me, those are night optics, claws and fangs. Why would he be scary? And his painter is in Kaon.” Rodimus answered quickly, pulling Deadlock away from the crowd and towards the goodie table. He picked up a cube of energex and handed it to Deadlock. “Not one for crowds?”

“Not one for crowds who know who I am.” He chugged it down and grabbed another cube.

“My, my, it’s great to see your creator finally let you out,” King Starscream swayed over, the only other royal not wearing heavy tacky jewels, but he did have engraved plating. “And Rodimus?”

“Yeah, new paints, you like?”

Starscream grinned. “Honestly you’re the two mechs here who don’t look like they crawled out of a glass wasit bit. But yes, I like. Deadlock is bold, powerful, but he’s not going to waste his time. Then Rodimus looks like he’s here to claim the sparks of his dead lovers.” He smirked. “My kind of mech. I would keep an optic out, some mechs are already drooling over you two.”

“Where is Skyfire?” Deadlock asked, tossing the cube away.

“He’s not one for parties, not that he could fit here.” Starscream shrugged. “But he’s close by, most likely sharing notes with some fellow scientists.” He held up the two drapes, inspecting them. “Even king Megatron’s drapes? Oh theses were servo made, commissioned, he was saving theses for something.” Starscream was about to say more but shut his intake sharply as his optics caught another mech. “Excuse me but you have a visitor.” He returned to his corner, shooting glares at mechs who drooled over him.

“Rodimus?”

He jumped, spinning around and meeting two mismatched optics, one gold, the other blue. “Op-” He was cut off as his old captain scooped him up in a hug. His spark warmed, hugging Optimus back.

Optimus set him down, his optics doing that crinkle. “It’s good to see you.”

He smiled back. “Good to see you’re still holding up.” Rodimus punched Optimus’ shoulder.

Optimus laughed wrapping an arm around Rodimus and pulling him in. “Thanks, I’m not that old. What trouble are you causing now?”

Rodimus chuckled. “I’m not, for awhile I was a mercenary doing some dirty work, but now I’m a guard for Kaon’s royal family.”

Optimus’ grip loosened. “Kaon?”

He nodded turning to Deadlock who was quietly watching them reconnect. Deadlock smiled, waving at Optimus. “Hi.”

“This is prince Deadlock, Deadlock this is my Captain and trainer, Optimus.”

Optimus reset his optics. “Prince Deadlock of Kaon?” His voice was tight.

Deadlock nodded. “Yep.”

Optimus shook his helm, once again putting up his wall. “Interesting, how come you haven’t attended any other gatherings?”

“I’m not exactly sure but my creator was pretty protective over me, especially when I was still a sparkling.” The prince shrugged.

Optimus nodded. “Well then.” His optics for a second linger on their drapes.

The two stared at one another, Optimus looked like he had something more to say, while Deadlock was confused. The captain shook his frame, excusing himself and leaving the two of them for his post.

“Huh, he seems...nice?”

Rodimus watched Optimus’ once more turning into a statue next to the king, and yet his finals sagged. “Yeah, he is.”

“I think he’s hiding something.” Deadlock whispered, grabbing a jelly.

“Optimus? Hiding?” Rodimus frowned.

The prince shrugged. “Just saying, something’s not right.”

“Like there’s something not right with your creator.”

“Fair enough.”

More royals came up asking questions, Deadlock answered some, while Rodimus tried to answer a few, making sure not to overwhelm the prince. There’s an ocean of jewels and polished mechs almost always around them, gravitating towards the newest arrivals. But soon the band starts to play again and servants carry out plates of energex.

“So,” Deadlock leans against a column. “This is a royal ball?”

Rodimus snorts. “As dry as it’s always been, it’s only great if someone gets into a fight, or worse.” He hardly ever cared for royal manners joining the prince against the column.

“What was the worst fight you ever saw?”

He hissed. “Well…” His tanks turned and he finally vented. “If I’m being honest it was my fight, the night I left Iacon.”

“Oh, let’s not bring that up.” Deadlock snagged two cubes from a server and gifted one to Rodimus.

Then the band soared, bringing everyone’s attention to the couple of the hour. King Overlord lead prince Thunderclash down the stairs, their optics locked on one another. Thunderclash’s arms around Overlord’s neck, Overlord’s greasy digits on Thunderclash’s waist. They were elegant, reaching the end of the stairs, circling one another, a wide grin on Overlord’s face, while Thunderclash wore his dopey smile.

_ Energex, energex is good. _ He finished his cube, curling his digits around the cheap plastic and crushing it. Forcing himself to stop watching as more mechs started dancing around the couple.  _ Soon to be bonded, disgusting. _

“H-hey, Rodimus.” Deadlock called, his voice tight. “Who’s that?”

Rodimus followed the prince’s optics, landing on a frame he hadn’t seen in ages. Ratchet. “That’s Ratchet, he’s the royal medic, why?” 

“Uh.”

Rodimus grabbed Deadlock’s chin, the prince was struck, his cheeks bright blue, optics wide, his final twitching. He did a double take, looking at the tried over worked medic who could turn the bravest warriors to stone with a glare and cut them down with his sharp tongue, then back to a mushy Deadlock. “No, Hatchet?”

“‘Hatchet’? He must be a warrior to earn such a name.”

Rodimus snorted. “What part of ‘royal medic’ didn’t process? He’s called Hatchet for being a pain in the aft.”

Now Deadlock’s finals were pretty much flapping. “In what way?”

“Not like that!” He growled. “Nasty, you’re gross, put that away. He’s got a temper but a spark that’s in the right place.”

Deadlock swallowed. “Rodimus I think I need to talk to him.”

Rodimus huffed resting his helm against Deadlock’s chest. “You’re over your helm here,” He patted Deadlock’s back plates. “He might bite your helm off, but good luck.” 

Deadlock stumbled through the crowd, his whole frame shaking.

“Hatchet is going to wreck you,” He sunk back into the crowd, overseeing the snappy medic and the flustered prince.

Ratchet didn’t even budge a plate when Deadlock stood next to him, only sparing a glance, his frown deepening. 

“Is he trying to talk to Ratchet?” Starscream circled behind Rodimus.

“Unfortunately the cranky medic caught his attention.” Rodimus shrugged.

Starscream snorted. “Finally something interesting, I was hoping to see something besides poor dancing tonight.”

Deadlock finally spoke up, his voice cracking, Ratchet turned away from the sea of mechs. Ratchet spared a few words but turned back to the royals, Deadlock slumped, playing with his claws. The light glittered off the prince's claws, annoying the medic, but Ratchet snagged one of Deadlock’s servos, inspecting the claws. Ratchet was talking about something, asking Deadlock a few questions, Deadlock wiggled in place. Ratchet huffed dropping his servo and once more watching the guests. Deadlock turned to Rodimus and Starscream, his final sagging, slowly the prince joined them, his peds dragging.

“Was it something I said?”

Rodimus pulled him into a hug. “Nope, Hatchet is a mech bonded to his work, and right now his work is keeping an optic out for overcharged mechs.”

“You were very polite and cute, he’s a fool.” Starscream snapped, huffing, and shooting glares at mechs who were staring at him. The king’s intake screwed up. “I got an idea.” He leaned in, pulling Deadlock and Rodimus in. “If you want their attention, you’re going to demand it.” His fangs poked out of his intake.

Deadlock sniffed. “How?”

“Who’s attention?”

Starscream rolled his optics. “Oh please, Rodimus I know exactly how you feel, you came here to reap the souls of your past lovers, you want Thunderclash.”

Everything ached, it didn’t matter how long it’s been, how many night cycles he spent sobbing. After everything, if there was just a moment that Thunderclash would run over and scoop him up, bright optics and that stupid grin, Rodimus would take him back. 

Starscream grinned. “Alright, Deadlock you know that dance I taught you? The one your creator doesn’t know about?”

Deadlock perked up. “That Vosian dance? The one with the dips and fast movement?”

The king nodded. “For that you lead, and Rodimus you follow, it’s easy, just get ready for some fast movement. Just wait for my signal, I’m changing the stupid music.” He winked, slipping into the sea.

Deadlock grinned, taking Rodimus’ servo. “Don’t worry, I’ll go slow at first, but if you can keep up with zoomies, you can keep up with me.” He led them through the crowd, past Ratchet and right in Overlord’s and Thunderclash’s sight. “Besides, we’re here to ruin some lives.”

The music changed, from simple formal royal music, to swing. Confused royals slowed to a stop. Deadlock’s servo found the small of Rodimus’ back struts, he easily spun Rodimus around in tune with the drop, sparks flung from their peds. Deadlock grabbed Rodimus’ servos, pulling him back, he leaned back and Rodimus leaned with him, then Rodimus leaned back and Deadlock followed. Rodimus and Deadlock held onto one another, their peds dancing across the floor, creating sparks with the band. Rodimus was twirled once, then Deadlock pulled him in. Mechs parted for them, clapping with the beat. Rodimus swung Deadlock around, then pulled him in, the two danced around one another. 

Deadlock pulled him close. “Alright, it’s going to pick up now.” He winked.

The band picked up, the clapping grew faster and faster. Deadlock grinned once more the two of them half hugged, their peds moving twice as fast. The parted only holding on by their servos, then pulled back more, circling. Then, with little warning Deadlock heaved Rodimus up, under his arm, then tossed Rodimus to his front, and flipped the guard. Rodimus landed in a showers of sparks, his own spark singing. They turned, clapped, their peds still dancing and once more they met. Rodimus twirled Deadlock once, then twice, then the prince once again swung him around, this time behind, and Rodimus landed perfectly. The crowd was roaring now, clapping fast and faster. 

Deadlock grabbed Rodimus the two were front to back, Deadlock in front, Rodimus behind. Their peds swung out more, slapping down with the beat. Deadlock grabbed Rodimus’ servos. “Lift me up.” He did so, the prince spun, then fell, still holding onto Rodimus’ servos he tossed the guard over his helm, and Rodimus rolled, jumped back up and faced the prince.

The beat got faster, the royals were practically screaming, stomping their peds down.

“It’s going to get faster.” Deadlock said, grabbing Rodimus’ servo, then throwing him, they danced, pulled together then apart, not once did their peds stop. “Last round, got it?”

“What am I expecting?” Rodimus said, pulling apart then together.

“I’m going to front flip you and catch you,” Deadlock grabbed Rodimus’ waist, tossing him up and Rodimus flipped, the prince caught him. 

Rodimus jumped back up to his peds. “Now what?”

“Now, I’m going to throw you into the air, you do another flip, land and throw me into the air.”

“Frag.” Rodimus was pulled back, Deadlock scooped him up, tossed him high enough to catch a streamer, he flipped, the crowd howled. He landed on his peds, then he grabbed Deadlock, pulled him close and threw the prince up, Deadlock flipped, caught a streamer and landed.

Everyone screamed as the song came to an end. Rodimus felt exhausted, his peds burned and the polished floor was scuffed and dirty now. Me met Deadlock’s optics, grinning, the prince grinned back, busting into a fit of laughter, Rodimus did the same. They limped back to the goodies table, grabbing a few cubes and venting.

Starscream slapped their backs. “Well I’m no expert but Ratchet is staring and Thunderclash left, helm down.” He grinned. 

Ratchet started to cut through the crowd, for once his face didn’t look like a pissed sparkling. 

Rodimus sunk back letting Deadlock greet Ratchet, Starscream once again slipped into his corner, pulling out a data-pad. Thunderclash was no longer to be seen. Rodimus grinned, even though his frame felt like he’d been run over by a tank, his spark felt light.

“I must admit, you’re a strange looking mech from Kaon.” Ratchet said. “Not even Optimus can throw a mech like that.”

Deadlock blushed. “Well Rodimus didn’t feel like anything, I mean, the royals are known for their strength.” 

Rodimus’ spark warmed at the two of them, slowly but surely his frame started to recover. A few mechs tried to replicate their mad dancing but simply tripped over themselves, king Ultra Magnus was even bewildered at the sight, clearly making mental notes to looking into whatever he just saw. Optimus looked like his processor just fried. Rodimus leaned down, pulling the streamer from between his plates.

Suddenly he fell on his side, as a massive mech pushed him, he spun, then snarled seeing Overlord’s thick lips turned in a satisfactory smile. “Tell me  _ guard _ , do you just pass yourself around the royals like some night mech?”

Rodimus glared at him, his spoiler hiked up, he flashed his fangs.

Overlord rolled his optics, hardly paying attention to Rodimus. “Kaonites, just dumb mechs.” he slipped into the sea.

_ I know I would be executed but I would’ve loved to rip out his stupid fat tongue!  _ He crossed his arms, his spark falling, the night ruined for him in a few words.  _ How dare he! I’m a guard, I made a mistake and I left! Besides, Deadlock is my best friend! _ He huffed, listening in on the pince’s and medic’s conversation.

“Kaon sounds like a lovely drive, well if the drive wasn’t so long and if I was a speed frame.” Ratchet snorted.

Deadlock laughed. “It is, I’m sure you’d love our natural hot springs, and there’s this huge maze underground that you can spend whole cycles in.”

Ratchet froze, his smile slipped off his plates as he reached for his comm, holding up a servo. “What?” His whole frame locked up. “He fell? And his frame is...try to hold his helm-no, make sure his helm doesn’t hit anything.”

Rodimus leaned in. “Hatchet, what’s going on?”

Ratchet spun around. “Prince Thunderclash just fell in the library and Rewind is freaking out.”

“What?” Rodimus ran after Ratchet, Deadlock on his heels. The three of them rushed out of the party, down a staircase, into the 3rd lowest level. Whoever said Ratchet wasn’t a speed frame could shove it. All three of them slammed open the doors to the library.

The first thing they heard was Rewind yelling. “Hold still, HOLD STILL!”

They followed the screams, spotting Rewind sitting on Thunderclash’s helm. The prince’s frame jerked and twitched, slamming into anything around him. A deep unearthly sound erupted from the prince’s intake, his optics glitched and flickered, oil gushed out of his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starscream: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zJaaLXZwmsU  
And yes those drapes Deadlock and Rodimus are wearing? Yeah those were specially made for Orion and Megatron.
> 
> Sometimes you watch your ex-lover dance with another man, other times you find him in the library throwing up oil and twitching like road kill.


	6. Take My Breath Away But You’re Watching The Love Of Your Life While Being Trapped In Your Own Pit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp, there's a lot of surrealism and symbolism here, have fun!

He fidgeted in his seat, reaching for the rest of his cube and turning to Iacon. He felt exposed without another set of optics watching him, blue optics, the optics that held the starry night. 

“I hope he’s okay.”

“Huh?” Thunderclash turned towards king Overlord, who sat across from him, watching Iacon with narrowed optics.

“Your guard, what’s his name?” The king was watching the city below them.

“Rodimus, his name is Rodimus.”

King Overlord nodded. “He looked pretty worn out, I hope he didn’t fry anything.” His lip plates pulled down and his optics hardened.

Thunderclash shook his helm. “No, he’s just stressed.” He eased into the chair, wishing that Rodimus was behind him, his light servo resting on his shoulder. Thunderclash understood where Rodimus was coming from, his paranoia, he didn’t like bigger mechs, very big mechs. When Rodimus was little he would hide away from Ultra Magnus, often ducking behind Optimus. Thunderclash thought he grew out of it, but something about king Overlord frightened Rodimus. Sometimes the king would simply stomp and the guard would flinch and even grip his saber. He hated seeing Rodimus so uneasy, so worried, like some nitro snake curled up and ready to strike. “He’s always like this.” He shrugged. 

“You should check on him.”

He frowned. “But-”

King Overlord rolled his optics. “It’s easy to see, you two, I’d be remiss if I got between you two.”

He vented, getting to his peds. “Oh, alright I guess I’ll check.” He turned to king Overlord, noting that one of his optics were slightly brighter than the other. “Well then, it’s been a lovely night, good night King Overlord.”

The king smiled. “Good night prince Thunderclash.”

He left, helm high, grinning, he wouldn’t have to bond with king Overlord, the king understood. His spark swelled at the idea, no longer hiding everything from everyone, how warm Rodimus’ servo would be in his, that he guard didn’t have to watch like some strung out turbo fox. That they might have some bitlets around their peds, and they can grow gray together. 

Before he knew it he was face to face with Rodimus’ quarters, he peeked in, spotting the bright orange mech thrown on the berth. His vents stalled, quietly Thunderclash crept in, pulling the thick tarp up over Rodimus’ spoiler. The guard hardly flinched, he was worn out, exhausted.  _ I’ll tell you in the morning. _ He leaned down pressing a gentle kiss to Rodimus’ final, Rodimus grumbled. “Get some rest, sweet spark, you’re working too hard. I love you, good night.” He stood up watching as Rodimus’ servo reached out and then fell limp.

Thunderclash fell into his own berth moments later, his processor shutting down with ease. With a deep vent he was out.

_ He was in the crystal gardens, the sun shined and the crystal sparkled, the sweet smell of fresh energon goodies wafted through the air. Thunderclash smiled, his spark bloomed with warmth. The crystals were starting to bloom as another layer started to grow over, the older layer fell to the ground under them. _

_ _ _ “Where are you?” Rodimus dashed around the crystals, ducking and diving, playfully stomping around. His plates shined and his intake was turned up into a cozy grin. _

_ _ _ “Sweet spark, what are you doing?” Thunderclash called, stepping down the stairs, following his beloved. _

_ _ _ Rodimus paused, his face beaming. “It seems our little trouble marker likes to think they can get away without having their morning energon.” _

_ _ _ Thunderclash stopped by the bright orange mech, engine rumbling as he leaned down to kiss the light of his spark. “Really now?” _

_ _ _ “Ew!” A tiny helm popped out of the crystal top, the bitlet stuck out their fat tongue. _

_ _ _ Thunderclash chuckled, engine shifting into 2nd gear and rumbled even deeper. _

_ _ _ “Oh you think that’s gross, watch this!” Rodimus snapped, his digits digging into Thunderclash’s hips and pulling him close, the speedster’s engine roared as their intakes met. Thunderclash almost fell on top of the other, his spark swelling. He kissed his sweet spark a thousand times, and each time his chassis swelled as he melted against that intake. _

_ _ _ “Gross!” Their bitlet yelled dashing out of the crystal. _

_ _ _ Rodimus pried himself off of Thunderclash. “Oh no you don’t!” He dashed after the tiny frame. _

_ _ _ Thunderclash watched as the two played a hard game of tag, unable to not smile at the lovely sight. The love of his life and their creation in the crystal gardens on a warm cycle, he couldn’t think of any better way to spend his time.  _

_ _ _ Rodimus huffed, frowning. “Little bit is getting smart.” _

_ _ _ Thunderclash smirked. “Really? I think that’s your side.” _

_ _ _ Rodimus rolled his optics. “Alright no more games, come on, you need to fuel.” He called out, returning to the gardens. _

_ _ _ He turned to the bright skies, his spark coiling up as the clouds rolled in covering up Iason’s shimmering buildings and citizens. He didn’t want this family to run into the castle, but the storm raged above them. And it started out to be such a perfect cycle. “We should go in, it’s getting cloudy.” He called. _

_ _ _ Rodimus stomped around. “Where are you?” He ducked down into the bushes. “Alright come on out.” _

_ _ _ There was a faint giggle. _

_ _ _ “There you are!” Rodimus dove into the bush, his peds kicking out as he wiggled to grab their sly creation. _

_ _ _ “Rodimus, come on, we need to get inside,” He followed his love, stopping at the sight of Rodimus’ aft in the air. “Rodimus?” _

_ _ _ Rodimus bolted up. “I can’t find them.” He turned towards Thunderclash, cupping his face. “Thunderclash I can’t find our creation.” _

_ _ _ Panic settled into his spark. “Come on out!” He yelled as Rodimus dashed madly around the garden. Fear settled in his spark and his tanks twisted. “Come on little one, we need to get inside!” _

_ _ _ Rodimus climbed up every crystal, looked under every rock, tore up every bush. “I can’t find them, where are you?” He whined, his optics starting to leak. “Come out!” He called his spoiler shaking. _

_ _ _ “I’ll inform the guard, okay Rodimus?” He rested a servo on the shaking spoiler. _

_ _ _ There was another faint giggle, and the bushes shook, like some animal ran past them. Rodimus was faster, he always had been, he rushed after the bushes, Thunderclash stumbled behind him, trying to keep up. _

_ _ _ “Come on, now’s not the time for games!” Rodimus hissed. “Ah-ha!” He picked up speed and then he bolted, stumbling under the old willow crystal. He collapsed in front of the willow. “No, no, no!” _

_ _ _ “Radion?” Thunderclash slowed to a stop, watching the yellow frame shiver. He rushed to his love’s side. “Remelus, what’s wrong?” _

_ _ _ “No, no, where’d you go?” Romelus hissed, his servos diving into the dirt. “They were just here!” Pulling up chunks of roots, dead crystals, stones, carelessly flinging them away. _

_ _ _ “Sweet spark, it’s okay, we’ll find them, just stop.” He tried to grab the frantic servos. _

_ _ _ Fat globs of washer fluid fell from Rolimus’ purple optics. “Where did they go?” The hole grew deeper and deeper, the servos were too fast to grab. “Thunderclash where did they go!” _

_ _ _ His spark ached watching his love struggle. “We’ll find them.”  _

_ _ _ Radlum snarled, his digits covered in dirt, he kept digging, the hole seemed to stretch and go on and on, bugs crawled out of the dirt, wiggling. _

_ _ _ “Remlion stop!” Thunderclash snapped. _

_ _ _ He didn’t, his digits striking something, and the hole welled up with oil, thick dark oil, it spewed out and strayed them.  _

_ _ _ Thunderclash grabbed the love of his life pulling him close, wrapping him up in a hug. “Romelion!” _

_ _ _ The purple mech snarled, pushing himself out of Thunderclash’s servos. “That’s not my name!” _

_ _ _ “What?” His spark ached, the mech before him turned blue. _

_ _ _ “WHAT’S MY NAME!” He roared, optics turning red. _

_ _

_ _ Thunderclash jerked up, the world around him spun, his frame swayed and he gripped the edge of his berth to steady himself. His tanks turned and his peds tingled. At the back of his helm there was this burning, it hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. There was a heavy smell of fire, something was burning, it made his optics water. He rubbed his faceplates leaving his berth and making his way to the wash rack. Taking a moment to purge his tanks in the rack, watching the unprocessed energon slip down the drain with the solvent.

Thunderclash shook himself, leaving the wash rack, he stopped by one of his servants. “Where’s king Overlord?” The world started to slow, no longer spinning, but his peds still tingled.

“He’s visiting the garden. Have you picked a polish yet?”

“Oh, uh, the slightly blue one, the one without the sparkles.” He left making his way to the garden, his frame warmed as he spotted the king reading a data pad. “Good morning king Overlord.”

The king smiled. “Good morning, nice to see you’re well rested.”

“Is tonight the dance?”

“Is it.”

The whole room was full of mechs, glittering and spinning, the band swelled as the whole floor elegantly moved. He was in a sea of mechs, gold, copper and silver.  _ When did I get so good at dancing? _ Thunderclash shrugged the thought away, loving how his frame spun. Gentle digits curled around his waist, warm red optics stared into his. He laughed, why was he laughing?  _ Who knew the king could be so kind? _

_ _ Suddenly there was a sharp pain, the pain that reminded him of Ultra Magnus slapping his servo away from another goodie, but this time it was a slap, but a slam.

“Thunderclash!”

They stumbled, Thunderclash turned and spotted a guard, king Overlord hid behind him. He knew the guard’s name, it was something, something with an R? “Yes?” He frowned and blinked.  _ How dare this common guard interrupt us! _

_ _ “I-uh.”

He sneered and turned away. ““Return to your post guard, I thought you were  _ trained  _ better.” Thunderclash turned to his king, pulling him close. Once again they started dancing, Overlord hovered over him, Thunderclash fell against his frame, resting his helm on the king’s shoulder.

“Thunderclash!”

He snarled once more, turning to the guard. “What is it you want, common _ guard? _ ”

“What are you doing?” The guard's optics grew wide, something about his desperate look hurt. There it was again, sharp pain.

“I’m dancing with my king and future spouse, something courting mechs do.” Thunderclash snapped, folding his arms and standing tall.

““T-Thund-” He slumped.

“Now I suggest,” Thunderclash leaned down, meeting those pathetic optics. “You do  _ your  _ job, or you can be replaced by someone who  _ can _ .”

Then the guard pouted, his optics leaking washer fluid, the saber snapped between his digits. He was bleeding, Thundeclash wanted to dab away the energon and wrap that servo up with the softest silks he had to offer. 

_ Something’s wrong. I want to comfort him, why? Why does my spark hurt? Why can’t I figure out his name? _

“T-Thunderclash…” His vocalizer was breaking. “I love you.”

He couldn’t stop himself, it was like a natural occurrence, earthquakes, floods, but that sound, metal on metal. The gasps, the burn of his digits, the new dent marking the guard’s final. Somewhere there was a scream, he wanted to find the source, who was screaming?

“Leave.” Thunderclash snarled, flashing his denta.

The guard, his optics were cruel, they were narrowed in anger rage, raw untamed betrayal. He spat on Thunderclash and left.

_ Run after him! _

King Overlord handed him a rag, Thunderclash turned away, a pit forming in his tanks as he took the rag.

Who was screaming?

_ It was a small room, tiny, he’s never been there before, it’s not in the castle. The walls are covered in masks, some happy, some sad, some screaming. Curtains hung under them thick red curtains. Each corner had a small fire, it’s burning through the curtains, crawling up to the roof. The roof wasn’t there, there was a void instead, the kind that would pull you in and keep you there. _

_ He sat in a tiny chair, it hurt his aft, squeezing it too tightly. Across from him sat two chairs, one was empty, the other was his carrier. Ultra Magnus. _

_ The king stared at Thunderclash, Thunderclash stared at him. “Where have you been?” He asked. _

_ “Waiting.” _

_ He hunched in the chair, staring down at his peds. “I don’t understand you.” _

_ “You’ve never met me.” _

_ He hissed. Rising to his peds. “I’ve met you, I know you, always pushing, always shoving and,” He crossed the floor only to trip and fall, his helm slamming against the cold stone floor. He turned and sat up, his ped caught on a familiar frame, a frame he knew. “Rodimus?” _

_ “So you do know his name?” _

_ Rodimus was sprawled out on the floor, his back pointed upwards, his face against the floor. Dust covered his plates. _

_ “Rodimus?” Thunderclash inched closer, resting a servo on the bright yellow spoiler and shaking it. “Rodimus?” _

_ “He’s been there for awhile.” _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ Ultra Magnus leaned down. “He fell, hard, from what I do not know, from your kind optics or your cold servo.” _

_ Thunderclash hissed. “I don’t understand! Rodimus, get up!” He shook the guard even harder. No sound came from the orange mech. “Rodimus? Please get up!” His spark stung, like someone reached into his chamber, wrapped their claws around it and was slowly pulling it out. He stopped spotting the final, it was dented, horribly dented. “What happened?” _

_ “He fell.” _

_ “Who did this to you?” He ached leaning down, trying to assess the damage. “Rodimus, answer me.” _

_ The limp frame didn’t, not with his shaking, or shoving, it only sat there, cold, dusty.  _

_ “Rodimus, please.” His throat stung from screaming, and now it was clamping up as hot tears rolled out of his optics. “Rodimus who hurt you?” _

_ Ultra Magnus vented. “The fires, they’re being snuffed out, he’s going to get cold soon.” _

_ Thunderclash glanced up at his carrier. “What do I do?” _

_ Thick globs of oil rolled down from the ceiling, snuffing out the fires, covering the masks, slowly pooling in the corners. _

_ Ultra Magnus looked down at him. “Scream, that’s all you can do.” _

_ His vision grew blurry as he laid down next to Rodimus, curling around him. “Rodimus, please!” He wiped off the dust, trying to grab Rodimus’ face, see his love. Oil pooled around them, it was cold and sticky, it clung to his plates. “Rodimus, get up, please!” _

_ “You’re drowning son.” _

_ “Rodimus!” He couldn’t grab hold of his love’s face, everything was turning black as the oil started to flood. “Rodimus! Please!” _

_ And yet the orange mech didn’t move, he was limp, that horrible dent in his final. _

_ Everything clicked into place. _

_ “I’m so sorry Rodimus, please I need you.”  _

_ The oil welled up between them, covering Rodimus, then Thunderclash. _

_ “Scream, it’s all you can do.” _

Thunderclash jerked away, screaming, his digits clawing at his throat, washer fluid spilling out of his optics. He was shaking, his spark racing in his chamber. He wanted to scream, howl like some mad turbo fox. Instead he purged, stumbled out of his berth and ran to the patio, flinging open the door and forcing himself to vent. He held his helm between his knees, staring down at the metal below. It twisted and curled inwards, it groaned and ached and then an intake formed, mad optics glared up at him. Then it screamed.

Thunderclash fell back, stumbling back into his quarters, it didn’t stop screaming, it couldn’t stop. He cupped his audios and curled up under his berth as the screaming grew louder and louder. Hot tears rolled down his face plates as his frame shook with fear.

It stopped.

He vented shutting his optics tight. “What was his name?” His tanks felt tight, like something heavy was sitting in them.

_ He jumped up, out of the tiny seat, falling by Rodimus’ side. “Rodimus?” He shook the frame. _

_ Rodimus was still on the checkered floor, face down, unmoving, his frame melting into the black and white marble.  _

_ “He’s been there awhile.” A new voice, one that was hauntingly familiar and yet, wasn’t. Thunderclash spun around, the chair Ultra Magnus sat in was vacant, the other chair sat a tiny mech. He was green, with red optics and a mustache, he was so tiny that his peds shot straight up and didn’t dangle. “I don’t understand why he’s down there.” _

_ “Who are you?” Thunderclash asked, still shaking Rodimus below him. _

_ The mech frowned. “I’m...not important,” _

_ “Then why are you here?” He hissed, Rodimus wasn’t moving and oil started to bleed down the curtains. _

_ The frown deepened. “I’ve always been here.”  _

_ “Then how do we get out of here?” He pulled Rodimus, the mech was glued to the floor, no he was sinking into the black and white checkers. _

_ “I don’t need to escape, you do.” _

_ Thunderclash groaned. “Thanks!” He jumped up, rushing to the curtains, curling his digits around the soft fabric and tearing them down, the masks flew past him. He threw them behind him, turning to face another curtain, once more he tore it down, hearing that sweet rip of fabric. Then there was another, this one too was ripped up and tossed behind him. “What is this?” He yelled facing another curtain. _

_ “You’re getting closer.” _

_ “Such a helpful mech!” He snapped, frustrated as more oil started to drip down, ripping up another curtain, and another. Finally he stopped coming face to face with a wall. The oil was now pooling at his peds, he turned back and reached into the oil, grazing Rodimus’ frame. “Come on!” He was right there, still glued to the floor. “Rodimus please!” His optics started to water as the oil got thicker and started to drag him down. _

_ “Huh,” The mech said, Thunderclash turned to him. “You really do love him.” _

_ “YOU’VE NEVER BEEN HELPFUL MY WHOLE LIFE!” He was swallowed up by the oil. _

His helm hurt, he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the wires, Thunderclash shook his frame, his peds tingled. Marching right into the main courtroom, Ultra Magnus sat in his throne, reading over bills and proposals. His helm was buried into the datapad. Optimus stood to his side, stiff, unmoving, optics dull.  _ He misses Ṛ̸͝o̷̮̐d̴̞͑i̵͇͗m̸̚ͅu̴̖͗s̸̯̑. _ Thunderclash hissed rubbing his helm, the pit in his tanks making itself even more present.

“Something wrong?”

“No, no,” He waved it off glancing at his creator, then freezing.

Ultra Magnus, it was him but it was off, his face couldn’t stop moving, it withered and festered. “Thunderclash?”

Thunderclash was shaking in his plates, his spark racing, forcing his optics to turn to Optimus. Forcing his optics to reset and his tanks to settle. “I’m fine, I’m just shaken up.”

“Really?” Optimus snapped.

Both Ultra Magnus and Thunderclash turned to the guard.

“Something to say, Optimus?” Ultra Magnus prodded.

He always wore a mask, but his optics were narrowed into a glare, his optic ridges pulled down. It wasn’t just anger but it was unbridled rage, only heightened by his frame tensing, and the ever so present saber on his hip. The mask fell away and there was a set of jaws, flashing sharp denta, denta that could tear through him, jaws that Thunderclash knew that could slice through any mech. Then the jaws faded away, Optimus vented and his helm fell. “No sir.”

_ He’d been here before, at least once, it burned down when he was a bitlet.  _

_ It was an opera theater, a massive one, the stage was huge, the pit felt as if it was another world. Seats stretched into nothingness and the roof was sored above him. He sat in the wall box, being as close as he could to the stage. _

_ He missed this place, he begged his creator to bring Rodimus with them, and Ultra Magnus agreed seeing that Optimus would be there as well. He would peer over the railing and Rodimus would do the same, watching the opera unfold below them. _

_ Thunderclash fell back into his seat, hearing the band begin.  _

_ The curtains pulled back and a dark set was revealed, two mechs stepped forward, one wearing a huge crown too big for his helm, while the other hid in the shadows. Their servos were intertwined, the mech in the shadows leaned forward pecking a kiss onto the king’s lips. The king stepped forward while the mech slunk back, sinking into the darkness before turning and leaving. The king turned back after singing, shocked to see he was alone, he called out to the other but he was gone. The king screamed and in panic ran off, hunting for his lost shadow. _

_ Then another mech stepped forward, this one too wore a huge crown, he was sleeker and smaller then the first king. He took center stage, folding his servos in front of him, he smiled, it was painful, wires descended down from above and latched to his plates. The wires pulled and he followed, dancing in a circle, his painful smile flashing in the lights. Then the king started to weep, washer fluid bubbled up around his optics. Then out of darkness another mech joined him, gracefully dancing with him, and with a twist the wires snapped and spun. The king fell into the bigger mech’s arm, from above tiny lights fell, they sparkle and fade on the stage. The king still sobbed into his beloved’s chest as they danced, crushing the sparkling lights under their peds. Then the king broke into a sob, falling into the other’s chest, the bigger mech lifted him up and carried him off. _

_ The first king returned, running away from a massive beast, carrying two bundles in his arms. The beast snarled and stomped after him, flashing massive denta, rows and rows of sharp denta, snapping at the king. The king stumbled and pulled the bundles closer, his ped kicking at the beast. It roared, grabbing the king’s ped and crunching down on it, the king howled in pain as the beast charged, slamming down on him. The pit swelled and the only light on the stage burned down on the beast and king. The beast slammed it’s paw down on the king’s helm, hungry jaws tore out the two bundles. The king screamed, fighting off the beast, reaching for his two precious bundles, the beast quickly gobbled up one, oil spilling out of the bundle. Tiny components flew out, a small servo was flung away from the comfort of the tarp. The king gasped, optics welling up as he clutched his chassis, weaky he grabbed for the second bundle. And just as quick the beast snatched it up, and with a loud pop and crunch the bundle spew oil. The king fell, weeping. From the shadows a mech fell, copying the king, clutching his chassis. The beast devoured it all, the tarps, the oil the tiny wires, it only stopped to lick it’s lips in a smug grin, turning to Thunderclash. _

_ Then a new king stepped forward, each pedstep held this power, this strength, and it ordered others to pay attention. His stance was straight, so much that one could use his back as a straight edge. Hard optics, unmoving lips. His crown fit just right. Then there was a tiny servo, with practice it slipped into the king’s servo, a tiny mech emerged from behind the king, his face buried deep into a book. The mask faded away as the king looked down at the other mech, they smiled at one another, it was sweet and reassuring. Then the king fell, wheezing, optics flickering, the smaller mech rushed forward cupping the king’s face. The curtain fell. _

_ He was disturbed, his plates shook and his optics watered. _

_ Then the curtain pulled back, the same king stood tall, the mech was gone, his back was no longer straight. The crown was heavy and huge on his helm and he forced a smile. From the shadows the beast emerged and dashed forward. _

_ Thunderclash screamed as the beast’s thousand dagger jaws wrapped around the king’s helm, wires connected the helm to frame and with a violent jerk the helm was ripped off and crunched on. More oil and fluid spilled out and the helm hit the stage with a solid thud, the only sound in the whole opera house.  _

_ Thunderclash leaned over the railing, staring down at the beheaded king, his spark in his intake. It was only now that he realized there were no other mechs, the instruments were playing themselves and every seat in the house was vacant. _

_ It slowly turned to Thunderclash, mad optics pulled into narrow slits, thousands of daggers laid waiting in it’s jaws. Their optic locked and he felt cold, so very cold. The beast roared, launching itself off the stage and towards Thunderclash. He jerked back as the beast clawed it’s way up the balcony. He spun around grabbing the only source of light, a tiny flame. The beast slammed down, it smelled of oil, foul oil that purified over time. He held the light up and the beast charged, pinning him against the floor, sharp denta grazed his neck cables. Thunderclash screamed and threw the flame onto the beast, it screamed, bursting into flame and falling out of the booth. Setting the opera on fire. _

“Goodmorning.” King Overlord beamed wrapping his arm around Thunderclash’s waist. “I hope you slept well?”

Thunderclash smiled his faceplates strained at the motion. “I did, and you?” They stepped out to the gardens, the sun had just risen and the morning dew was starting to turn into mist. He took in a deep vent, he always felt peace when he was in the gardens, picturing his bitlethood running around here and chasing R̸̡̨̪͚͚̼̿o̶̠͎͇͛̍d̷͔͖̫̳͙̠̂͗͝͝ͅi̶͎̞̓̆̿̉̿m̵̡̖̼̤͔̮̾̓̓͆u̵̪̪̮̓s̵̡̟̟̄͛, they’d always try to catch the ultra violet moths that disappeared in sunlight, or the L.E.D. bugs. When they were done they were filthy and Optimus would throw them both into the bath and wouldn’t let them come out until they were clean. 

“Thunderclash?”

Thunderclash shook his helm and cleared his intake, once again there was that pit in his tank. “Sorry I was reminiscing.” 

“Ah,” The king’s digits dug into his side, mimicking claws of a nitro hawk. “Well those memories are in the past, and now you have a bright future to look forward to.” He smiled down at Thunderclash, his optics glowing, one brighter than the other.

Thunderclash snorted. “Well of course,” His digits slipped under the king’s jaw line, pulling the king down. Their intakes met, he vented, his frame going numb against the larger mech’s. His engine stalled and his tanks hurt, like someone stabbed him through them. A cold twinge ran down his back struts as Overlord’s claws rested on his hips.

They pulled back and Thunderclash finally vented, resetting his optics, he stared up at the big mech. Behind the king stood a figure, it was still, so still, like a statue, the mouth was raised in a growl, mismatched optics burned into Thunderclash’s spark and for a split moment he remembered something. 

_ Where did he go?  _

And in a snap of digits it was gone, like smoke through his fingers.

_ “Rodimus!” Thunderclash dove down, shaking the unmoving frame. The oil was getting faster and faster now, it was already smothering the fires, coating the masks. _

_ “It’s not going to work.” Ultra Magnus said, frowning. _

_ “WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?!” He broke, optics watering up as his intake constricted, massive globs of washer fluid fell from his optics. “Every cycle I scream and my frame doesn’t respond, and every night I’m in Unicron’s pit watching as the love of my life lays emotionless. I know he’s gone! He’ll never come back and that’s my fault!” His voice started to crackle, his spark breaking even more. “I HIT HIM AND NOW HE’S NEVER COMING BACK!” Thunderclash curled up next to Rodimus. “I just want to say I’m sorry.” _

_ Ultra Magnus rose to his peds, leaning down and lifting Thunderclash’s helm. “I may not have ever known you, but I know,” He pointed to the masks. “That they are not you, not one of those masks confines you.” _

_ Thunderclash sobbed, tracing the dented final. “How do I get out of here?” _

_ Ultra Magnus frowned. “I do not know. I don’t think you can now.” _

_ He shook as the oil wrapped around his frame, he ran a digit over Rodimus’ dented final as more thick globs of washer fluid fell. “I just want to tell him.” _

_ “You’ll get the chance.” _

His spark wouldn’t stop racing, his processor spun and once more he emptied his tanks. The world around him wasn’t his, everything was wrong, the curtains whirled, the walls wiggled and moaned. Thunderclash shut his optics so hard that it stunk, he focused on venting. “Please, go away.” The moaning grew louder and his frame started to shake, he struggled to vent, falling to his knees and crawling out of his wash rack. “Please go away!”

Then there was the scream, the horrible scream, the same scream that woke him up, the same scream that would follow him, the same scream that sounded whenever he kissed the king.

His frame failed under him, collapsing to the cold stone floor, he curled in, wrapping his servos over his helm and pulling his knees up.

The floor rumbled under him, it wiggled like the walls, moaning.

There was a strong taste of acid in his intake, it was thick and burned his vents, with little warning he purged again. Thick oil fell from his intake, splattering across the perfectly crafted floors, staining them. Another wave of oil fell from his intake and his frame shook. The walls shook, the floor quaked under him, the screaming grew louder and louder, almost as if it was in his helm. Thunderclash gave in, bellowing out a hollow cry, optics flooding, his spark going out.

He fell, his frame hopelessly twitching, he sobbed wishing R̸̜̜̜̙͎͒̋͘͜o̸̬͓̎̌̋̌͂d̶͈͎̊̽̐̋͜͝ī̷̧͍͕͍͇͗̎m̷̧͚̈́͊̑ư̷̢̛̞͋͠s̸͓͕͉͔̟̽was holding him.

_ He roared rising from his chair and charging at the walls, the masks crunched under his servos as he ripped them off. Then the curtains fell, and fell, and fell, and fell. He tore them apart like a rabid turbo fox, optics watering. “I’M LEAVING!” _

_ The tiny green mech rose up from his chair, picking up a mask, then another, and another. “You think you’ll get out?” He picked up one, and placed it over his face. “No not that one, too happy.” He tossed it aside. _

_ “Yes! I’m getting out! I’m going to escape and I’m going to find Rodimus and I’m going to beg him to forgive me and cry into his chest!” _

_ “No that one either,” he tossed the mask away. “Really?...Do you think he would take you back?” _

_ Thunderclash hissed shredding the curtain under his digits. “Yes!” _

_ “Why? No not that one either.” _

_ “I love him! And I know he loves me too!”  _

_ The mech sighed. “None of them…” He glanced over to the empty chair, his red optics filled with longing. “You know I miss him.” _

_ Thunderclash ripped another curtain down and stopped at the cement wall, the oil was pooling at his peds. “I know he still loves me!” he raised his servo, curling it up and slamming it down on the wall, creating a crack. _

_ “Huh, you’re as stubborn as your carrier.” _

_ He slammed his fist down again, energon welling up. “I know he does!” The crack grew bigger. Again he punched the wall, the oil welling up at his peds. “I know he does!” Thunderclash roared. _

_ The green mech shook his helm. “I know, I’ve known and I’m sorry.” _

_ The crack grew and grew, spreading into a small creator in the wall, tiny pieces of the wall crumbled and fell into the oil. “And I love him!” He screamed punching through the wall and pulling the chunks down, they fell at his peds.  _

_ He stopped, there was nothing outside of the wall, it was dark and a faint breeze tickled his face plates. “What is this?” _

_ The green mech vented, picking up a mask, the sobbing one, pushing it into Thunderclash’s servo. “You’ll need this, and next time try to be quicker.” He looked up at Thunderclash, offering a small somber smile. _

Heavy flashy jewels hung from his frame, they glittered in the lighting, he looked fancy, normal for a pre bonding celebration. He stared at the mirror image of himself, polished to a sparkle. Thunderclash stepped forward, the jewels dangled at his sides, chiming as he grabbed hold of the mirror. He pulled himself closer looking at his face plates. “What is that?” He narrowed his optics closing in on the sharp downward edges of his intake. 

_ Mask. _

He shook his helm, leaving his berth room and thanking his servants. Each step his frame jingled he felt like he held half of the band. It itched and pulled at his paint, that would be a fun time trying to repaint himself, who was it that was great with an airbrush?

Thunderclash stepped forward, chasis out and a massive smile plastered on his face. Ultra Magnus spun around, for a moment his optic ridges were pulled down, his creator smiled at him. “I knew that polish would be perfect.”

“It’s pretty.” He nodded to his creator was they walked down the hall.

Ultra Magnus sunk back, his peds slowing. “Do you miss him?”

Thunderclash stopped, a sharp pain stabbed into his tanks. He turned to his creator, the same smile felt thick and cold, it wasn’t his own. “Who?”

Ultra Magnus’ face plate drained of color. “Your guard, Ṙ̸̫̗̭̟̤̑̇ǫ̴̮̳̹͎̜̠͆̆̒̂̊d̴̼̗̫̈́̂̄̕ͅi̸͍͇͌͊̒̕m̴̬͍̈́̆̊͆̈̂ư̸̹̺̞̠̽̾̃̌͊s̶͈͈̄̿͊̃̀̒͘͝?”

Thunderclash tilted his helm. “No, I don’t.”

There was that scream again, like a ghost flying through the castle, howling.

“Thunderclash, wait, can we-”

“Oh there you are.” A deep voice soothed and king Overlord stepped in wearing matching heavy rubies, his face plates pulled back in a wide smile. “King Ultra Magnus, will you join us?”

Ultra Magnus shook his helm. “No I want to take a moment, you two can start without me, enjoy yourselves.” His frame sagged.

Thunderclash took king Overlord’s servo in his own, the two of them turned to the ballroom. He leaned against the king, catching the rich scent of new polish followed the king. With half closed optics they stepped forward into the ballroom. Facing a sea of mechs spinning and laughing, each of them dressed in heavy jewels and engraved plates. “Mmm,” Thunderclash picked his helm up off the king’s shoulder. 

The sea of mechs gracefully swayed, dipping and laughing, chatting among themselves. The band swelled and all at once the dance floor slowed and turned towards them. Their faces, they were hidden, warped, heavy masks pulled down their frames, they were all grinning, like there was an inside joke he wasn’t told yet. 

With their servos still locked they stepped down into the sea of mechs, the band began again and the two sets of blue peds fell into place. He leaned against the king, staring out at the blurry shapes of plates and jewels. His helm swimming. 

“Enjoying the dance?”

“Mhm,” He reset his optics, turning to the king. “You?”

“Very much so.” He smiled, his teeth grew pointy.

Their engines rumbled and Thunderclash drifted off, optics shuttered. 

There it was again, that scream.

The world spun and his frame fell onto some poor duke, snapping him out of the dream like trance. Overlord jumped up, glaring at something before pulling Thunderclash up. Once on his peds he turned to the center of attention.

Two mechs, one was painted like a dark red sky, the kind that hung over your helm and demanded your attention, a warning. He was the kind of mech to demand your attention, the one who would snap his digits and you’d either drop to your knees or someone would cut them off.

The other was darker, purple, blue, and silver, overcast piercing optics stared out, pinning Thunderclash. He looked like the night, one final was like a tear into the stars, defiant and bold. Those optics burned into Thunderclash, his spark squirmed.

He couldn’t vent, his spark whirling in his chassis as his intake tightened.

“Welcome, thank you for joining us…?”

“Prince Deadlock, from the Kaon kingdom.” The cold mech announced. 

_ Kaon? Kaon has a prince? He’s a prince? _

_ _ The sea of mechs sprang up, crowding the two Kaonites, the prince, Deadlock, his plates puffed up and he froze up. While his escort answered the questions for him.

Thunderclash stood back watching, the pain in his tanks spreading up to his spark chamber. The sea calmed down as the two mechs rushed over to the only seeker in the room, King Starscream.

Once more the band began and Overlord’s servo curled around his waist, they climbed down the stairs again, gaining everyone’s attention. He wrapped his servos around the king’s neck as they reached the bottom of the steps. Overlord’s sharp teeth flashed. 

_ That mech, that guard, it’s him, isn’t it? It’s Ŗ̵͈͂̆͌̈̌͘o̵̥̱̗̞̲̯̍̄̓̊̓d̴̫̮̯̰̲̫͇̣̯̦͓̚i̷̢̱̰͔̞͖̤͌̿̽̎͗͠ͅm̷̡̠̮̼̣̤͚̝̣͐̂̅̀̃̈́͗̑ų̷̛̤̯͍͉͎̠͓͌͌̽ͅͅs̴̮̬͍̞̗̏̑̆̒͆̽̈́̾̑̚ _

_ _ His spark swelled, his lip plates pulled up and his optics softened, he hadn’t felt this good in ages. The spun and twirled, he always caught a glance of the mech of the night when he was spun. Each time his spark would leap up in his chamber and he melted a little bit more. For a moment he thought the mech was stareing at him, but quickly turned away, ashamed,

_ No please don’t, Ŗ̵͈͂̆͌̈̌͘o̵̥̱̗̞̲̯̍̄̓̊̓d̴̫̮̯̰̲̫͇̣̯̦͓̚i̷̢̱̰͔̞͖̤͌̿̽̎͗͠ͅm̷̡̠̮̼̣̤͚̝̣͐̂̅̀̃̈́͗̑ų̷̛̤̯͍͉͎̠͓͌͌̽ͅͅs̴̮̬͍̞̗̏̑̆̒͆̽̈́̾̑̚, please, I want to see you! _

_ _ And then the two Kaonites took to the floor, the band slowed and stopped as they started a new song. Thunderclash let go of Overlord, turning his attention to the flashy mechs. Overlord growled, his digits digging into Thunderclash’s side. He swatted them away. “I want to see this.”

Overlord sneered. “Why? A couple of buy mechs with fancy painting worth your time?”

Thunderclash turned back at him, gaping, then he snapped his intake shut.

_ It’s Ŗ̵͈͂̆͌̈̌͘o̵̥̱̗̞̲̯̍̄̓̊̓d̴̫̮̯̰̲̫͇̣̯̦͓̚i̷̢̱̰͔̞͖̤͌̿̽̎͗͠ͅm̷̡̠̮̼̣̤͚̝̣͐̂̅̀̃̈́͗̑ų̷̛̤̯͍͉͎̠͓͌͌̽ͅͅs̴̮̬͍̞̗̏̑̆̒͆̽̈́̾̑̚! Wow they’re like a team, they’re so close and… and… _

His spark ached at the sight, watching prince Deadlock easily catch the escort, they grinned. Thunderclash frowned, he wanted to cross the sea of mechs and pull the mech into his arms. And yet someone else had him, the prince, he always caught him, and then trusted the escort to toss him up and catch him.

He wasn’t needed.

_ He found someone else… Ŗ̵͈͂̆͌̈̌͘o̵̥̱̗̞̲̯̍̄̓̊̓d̴̫̮̯̰̲̫͇̣̯̦͓̚i̷̢̱̰͔̞͖̤͌̿̽̎͗͠ͅm̷̡̠̮̼̣̤͚̝̣͐̂̅̀̃̈́͗̑ų̷̛̤̯͍͉͎̠͓͌͌̽ͅͅs̴̮̬͍̞̗̏̑̆̒͆̽̈́̾̑̚ moved on, he’s happy now. _

_ _ King Overlord rolled his optics, grabbing Thunderclash’s waist. “Come on, we can still dance.”

He stumbled after the king, his peds filled with cement. “No.” He stopped shoving the king’s servo away. “I don’t want to dance.”

Overlord paused, turning to him, his sharp teeth glinted in the light, clearly amused with Thunderclash’s stance. “Really?” That sweet tender voice dropped, and now it was sick, dark, uneasy. The king’s face twisted, the sharp grin pulled back, his jaws descended out and oil dripped down from them. A beast stared down at him, his optics full of untamed rage. “Really now prince Thunderclash?” He licked his lip plates.

His frame rattled and Thunderclash turned away, his peds carrying him out of the ballroom. Fear pulled at his processor his spark snapping in two as he stumbled into the library. Thunderclash froze. “Rodimus, that’s his name, it’s Rodimus.” Choked sobs escaped his intake. “Rodimus, Rodimus,” It hurt to say his name, but Primus be damned he needed to say it. “Rodimus.” His knees grew heavy and he fell.

“Thunderclash!?” Rewind stood over him.

“Rod-” He screamed clutching his helm, his frame glitching and slamming against the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, now I will take your theories, will I answer them, most likely not.
> 
> Also yeah that opera/play? Man out of all the royals I feel bad for Starscream the most. I might write a separate fic on him.


	7. Take My Breath Away But You Have To Hold The Love Of Your Life Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus finally gets what he's been needing.  
Then the gang plans a crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby boy speaks his first words!   
What crimes will he commit?

“Hold still, HOLD STILL!” Someone screamed, it was distorted, like the scream was grabbed out of the airwaves and stretched between servos, then laid down on a set of stairs. Bumpy uneven, a dreadful scream. There was this pressure on him, as if someone dropped a stack of datapads on him. But that wasn’t it, it was shifting and warm, it was pressing against his face plates. “PLEASE PRINCE HOLD STILL!” It was a broken voice, familiar but he couldn’t place it. His tanks rumbled and thick greasy bile rose up from his intake, and bubbled out of his lips plates.

“What happened?” A gruff voice snapped and footsteps, also uneven and bumpy followed.

“I don’t know, I just heard him stomping around with his helm down, and,” the first voice, the tightest one. “He just collapsed after saying Rodimus’ name a few times.”

** _RODIMUS!_ ** He jerked up, his frame burning.  _ Rodimus, is he here? Where is he?...No he wouldn’t come, he’s happy now and...and he should be. _ Now he knew he was crying, he knew what crying felt like, that hot wetness under his optics, it would pool up and drip to the sides. His intake would go tight and his bottom lip would quiver. His frame bucked and the weight was thrown off.

“Now what?” The gruff voice snapped. “You two get over here an-”

Warm servos grabbed his helm, lifting it up and resting it on something else warm, they were comforting, something cozy.

“Hold still I need to-fragger!” The gruff voice snapped.

“Here.” A set of freezing cold servos grabbed his arm, pinning it, and prying open his medical panel.

“Hatchet, what’s going on?” 

His spark ached, and a low whine slipped out of his oily lip plates, his vision was still fuzzy, full of static and glitches. 

“I don’t know, but I’m giving him a sedative code, his frame is gonna stop jerking and ease.”

There was a sharp prick and his wires grew cold at a new code, it raced through his systems and slowly his frame grew still. His intake cleared of oil and he started to understand the world around him. Rewind was standing over him, shaking in his plates, Ratchet was stone faced, but there was this grim uneasiness to him, like he was confused. Then there was that red and white mech from the ball, the Kaon prince, Deadlock right?

“So...Hatchet, any clues why dipstick fell?”

“Well,” Ratchet’s face grew tight as he read the data. “I’m not sure.”

The mech above him huffed, warm digits ran up and down his helm. “Well, figure it out, he’s getting bonded off soon and I’d like to go back to Kaon.”

“Rodimus!” Rewind snapped. 

_ Rodimus! This is Rodimus? He’s so different, so purple, that’s right he got a repaint, and he was dancing with Deadlock. Then, then I didn’t want to dance and- _

_ _ “What?” Rodimus snapped, his plating flaring out. “I think I have the right to be a bit pissy, I mean you didn’t have your spark broken in a split moment.” He hissed through clenched teeth.

Thunderclash wheezed.  _ That’s right, I hit him. _ His digits were cold but he could still move them, he squeezed them, staring up at the twisted final. It took some effort, like pushing a boulder up a hill, but the hill was slick with oil, but his servo slowly rose up from his side. He watched the stupid red jewels dangle from his frame as his servo blocked out the lights. With a final push it rested against the warm frame around him. The same frame that tenderly held his helm, that those digits traced comforting circles around. Rodimus.

Rodimus froze, his digits stopping, his frame clattering and those intense wild optics looked down. His intake was drawn in, so tight that his intake was a fine line. 

Thunderclash felt the warm frame, he knew it was real, this was Rodimus, broken, upset, and still tender. He ran his digits gently over the final, jerking away when Rodimus winced in pain. More hot wet fluid bubbled up under his optics and his intake tightened into a knot, it physically hurt to push the words out, but he needed to. “I’m so sorry sweet spark!”

Rodimus’ optics doubled in size, washer fluid welled up on the sides and he said something, something that Thunderclash didn’t know he missed hearing. “Thunders?” His nickname. 

Normally he hated seeing Rodimus cry, Rodimus would always try to not cry around him, but there were times where Thunderclash understood that everyone needed to cry. Even Optimus did, he just did in the middle of the night with energex. What Thunderclash truly hated was seeing Rodimus crying over him, and all he could do was fight back the foul oil rising up in his intake. Thunderclash could feel the power drain from his frame, he fought against it and cleared away the thick tears from one of Rodimus’ optics. “You were right, Rodimus.” He forced a smile and his arm fell away.

“Thunders,” Rodimus curled around him, pressing his helm against Thunderclash’s. Thunderclash’s optics slowly started to fade, the other voices started to dwindle down to soft sounds. Rodimus clenched his fangs. “I’ll get you out of there, just hold on.”

It was easier to smile, his frame didn’t fight it anymore as the world around him vanished, all but the warmth around his helm.

* * *

He stayed there for a few moments, his intake pinched tightly, servos were tightly wrapped around Thunderclash. His digits clawed into every seam that they could reach, holding onto the colorful prince below, as if the world threatened to drag him away again.  _ Well I guess I got what I wanted.  _ He sucked back the painful knock in his neck and eased up, sitting back and staring down at the prince, his lips were faintly covered in oil.

“Rodimus, shift his helm to the side,” Ratchet gently ordered.

He did and watched as a steady stream of thick oil fell freely from the golden lips. Rewind gasped, Deadlock was tense ready to strike like some predator, but out of all of them it was Ratchet who kept it all together. 

“Something is seriously wrong, I’m picking up several areas of internal damage, but life threatening but could be if left untreated. What’s truly worrisome is that the injection I gave him? It was meant for a mech twice his size.”

Deadlock spoke first. “What does that mean?”

“It means that the prince has either been stealing some intense pain medication, or his wiring system and his coding aren’t talking to one another.” Ratchet frowned.

Then Rewind spoke up, with a tight voice. “Uh, I’m no expert but I don’t think helms emit smoke.”

Rodimus stared down at the prince, tiny trails of black smoke rose up from his nose and under his helm plating. Ratchet rushed over, with expert servos he found the clasps and pulled gently, asking Rodimus to hold Thunderclash’s helm up by the base of his neck. With a faint snap the casing was free and a big puff of smoke flew into their faces. 

Never before in his life has Rodimus seen Ratchet so appalled, the medic blew away the smoke and stared down into Thunderclash’s processor. “This is a first.” He said, his face plates grew paler by the moment. “Someone or something…” He moved his servo up to Thunderclash’s helm and opened his digits slowly, like a claw. “Stabbed him?”

“Stabbed?” Rewind was there in a moment, his red light blinking. “What do you-oh, oh Primus.” His voice dropped and he held onto Rodimus.

Rodimus stared at the 5 holes, covered in oil and dried energon, they were deep, bits of metal were torn up, sharp. His tanks turned, and he shivered, shutting his optics tightly.

_ He locked up, falling on his peds once more, covering his helm, a massive servo shot out. It wrapped around his helm and with a jerk he was lifted up, and up, an- _

_ _ “I’ll admit, this is new to me.” Ratchet said, pointing a light into the holes.

Rewind shook himself. “Wait, I think- hold on.” He dashed off, his peds sounding like two digits tapping on a table.

Deadlock slowly let go of the prince, kneeling down next to Rodimus. “Hey, Roddy, you doing alright?”

With a faint huff he fell against his best friend, screwing his optics shut. “Honestly, not even close.”

Deadlock wrapped an arm around him and rested his helm on top of Rodimus’.

“I got it!” Rewind called from the very back and scrambled to them, carrying a datapad and slug. “Okay, okay, so get this, there have been reports of this before, it’s called Mnemosugery. Or well this is a form of it, normally the marks would’ve healed up and the surgent is meant to insert at the neck.” Rewind paced back and forth. “It’s supposed to edit memories but this is different, it’s not just memories but it’s Thunderclash’s personality. This is often called a ‘personality adjustment’, but to most mech’s it’s called shadowplay.” Rewind finished.

Rodimus was shaking against Deadlock now, the Kaon prince hugged him tighter. “Okay, so how do we fix it?”

Rewind skimmed the data. “So, it seems that we need another mech that can go in and undo the damage, or well damage control.”

“So, where do we find a mech?” Ratchet spoke up, pulling himself from his strange trance, no longer staring at Deadlock and Rodimus. 

“Well the thing is that it’s a taboo subject to almost every society (clearly), some mechs are forged with this applity, others are trained and have mods, but all of them keep it under wraps. Most forged mechs have the needles removed from their digits.” Rewind paused. “Oh, hold on.” He set the datapad on the table, once more running back, digging through his private library and running back. “I think I know where we can find one, or well track one down. So you know those Northern Traveler’s?”

“That tribe that left ages ago?”

“Well...they didn’t really left, they were, uh, massacred, Ultra Magnus sent a servo full of mechs to check in. The whole tribe was beheaded, every one of them.”

Ratchet frowned. “How does this help? And why didn’t anyone tell the people?”

“No one knows who did it, not even Optimus knows, but I did go with the investigation party and recorded what we found.” He flipped over the datapad, showing a symbol. “This, it’s a hidden marking, it means Mnemosugery.” He then plugged in the other data slug, skimming the images and stopping on one, the same symbol, worn and covered in dried energon.

Ratchet frowned. “Okay so we have a beheaded mech who has needle servos, so what?”

Rewind snapped his digits. “That’s the thing, they kept tight wraps on everyone, so they kept a tight inner circle, that means that somewhere in this mech’s hut can lead us to another Mnemosurgent.”

Ratchet deflated, glancing down at Thunderclash. “Alright, so we’re going to track down a beheaded mech that can lead us to another Mnemosurgent who can help Thunderclash?”

Rewind shrugged. “Yeah.”

Deadlock frowned. “Wait, are you suggesting all of us?”

Ratchet nodded. “Yeah Twinkletoes, Rewind, Rodimus, you, me and,” He patted Thunderclash’s chassis.

Rodimus pulled himself away from Deadlock, instantly wanting to fall back into the Kaonnite’s arms. “Are you saying we’re going to travel across the sea of rust, well into the desert and find the half buried ruins of a tribe. With a historian, 1 pince that can consent to this, 1 prince that can’t consent, a cranky old mech, and me?”

Ratchet rolled his optics. “Of crouse, we can’t leave Thunderclash here.”

“Good point, it’d be pointless to leave him here.” Deadlock nodded. “Whoever did this to him is in these’s walls.”

Ratchet groaned. “No slag dipstick, it’s clearly Overlord.”

“But-” Rodimus started.

“Yeah it’s Overlord,” Rewind cut him off, “Rodimus, it’s Overlord, who else would gain from editing Thunderclash to hate you?”

He sunk down. “Alright so…”

“We need to sneak out with a knocked out mech that’s almost every color in the rainbow and twice our size.” Deadlock put in.

Rodimus huffed. “Alright, alright, Optimus hasn’t changed the rotation from what I can tell, that means we have roughly 74 kliks before the next rotation takes over. Ratchet pack anything and everything, if you think we don’t need it, pack it,” The medic nodded. “Rewind I need you to grab everything you have on the sea, the desert, not only that but the Northern travelers, along with Mnemosugery.” Rewind jumped up scurrying off to wherever. Rodimus turned to Deadlock. “Okay, your creator is going to be pissed, but I’m glad that you’re coming.”

Deadlock grinned. “Oh come on, anything to help my best bud!”

“Do you still have those holograms?”

“How many do you want?

_ Thank Primus Megatron forces Deadlock to have at least 10 different holo-devices on hand! _ Rodimus thought, shifting Thunderclash in his arms, Deadlock did the same, and between them Thunderclash looked like a passed out drunk mech. Ratchet led the way while Rewind hung back, covering their rear. All of them looked like basic truck frames.

Ratchet lead them to the 3rd floor, the 2nd was the ballroom, the medic did his best murder face and everyone shuffled out of their way. Making their way through the kitchen. Almost everyone but one stubborn red framed fragger, Ironhide. Rodimus swore Iron hide might’ve been Unircon when he was younger, but now he was sure of it.

“Hey!” The snappy red mech stopped Ratchet. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Ratchet growled, “What does it look like?”

“Looks like you’re sneaking out.”

“Holy slag, what color is the sky?!” Ratchet raised his voice, the upside was that his hologram made him look taller than Iron hide. “Yeah, we’ve got to, look at him.” He grabbed Iron hide’s chin and forced the red mech to look at a knocked out ‘duke’. “Fragger drank too much, snuck off and we’ve been looking for his sorry aft for a few kliks now.”

“So?” Iron hide slapped Ratchet’s servo away. 

“So, we’re trying to preserve what little prideful image he has and take the back door.”

Iron hide grumbled. “And you think you’re allowed to do that?”

“Alright, fine,” Ratchet spun around. “Out the front, let’s hope he doesn’t purge halfway through the ball, I can NOT handle cleaning up that mess again!”

Somehow Primus was on their side as Thunderclash grumbled and more oil spilled out of his intake.

“Primus, alright, fine, but don’t tell anyone.” Iron hide gave in, moving aside.

They pushed through the last door and stepped into the alleyway. All of them venting at once.

“That was...exciting.” Deadlock grinned, his optics staring at Ratchet.

“Yeah, yeah, once you’ve been elbow deep in a mech you tend to learn a bit about them, like Iron hide hates being sick and the idea or sound of purging will make his reflex act up.” Ratchet grinned. “Alright, now what?”

“Now, Deadlock step back,” Rodimus held up Thunderclash with one servo while his other searched for that one hindge, his digits ghosted it before he pulled it back and let it snap, Rodimus jumped back and Thunderclash changed to his altmode.

“Oh,” Ratchet smirked. “ _ Oh _ .”

“What does ‘oh’ mean?” Rodimus turned to him, crossing his servos.

“Rodimus you hound,” Ratchet slapped his shoulder. “I knew you two were a thing, but I didn’t think…” He had the biggest slag eating grin. 

“Shut it.” Rodimus groaned, pulling out two tow chains from his subspace (Optimus seemed to collect them). “Well we need to put as much space between us and Iacon.” 

Deadlock grabbed one. “Oh frag yeah, I haven’t towed in ages.” He grinned. “Thank Primus my creator is a tank, no one can pull like me.”

Rodimus grinned. “Wanna bet?” He knelt down, hooking his chain to Thunderclash.

“Oh, are we going zoomies?” Deadlock did the same.

“You bet, no one can tow like me,” Rodimus punched Deadlock.

“Really? Are those fighting words?” Deadlock changed into his altmode.

“Yeah those are fighting words, and you’re going to lose.” Rodimus did the same, Rewind hooked them up and then jumped onto Ratchet.

“Alright mechlings, at least be civil until we’re out of the capital?” Ratchet snapped pulling out in front of them. 

“Awh.” They both said, pulling Thunderclash behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Looks at the camera like I'm in the Office* Shocking, everyone knew it was Overlord and Shadowplay.  
Ironhide may have thick plates, but his tanks aren't made of the same stuff. 
> 
> I'm thinking next chapter is going to be our favorite train wreck, and a tiny fun fact, a bit of this is going to be taken from real life, not mine but it's kinda through the grape vine.


	8. Two out of Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're out of touch  
I'm out of time  
But I'm out of my head when you're not around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that the Kaonites sing, yeah I based it off of this bad boy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Tc1GUXxr2o  
Not gonna lie I struggled writing this chapter, I'm not sure if I'm happy about it but eh, it's setting up a few things.

The sun just barely peeked over the maginsuim mountains, the purple rays cut through the inky blue night sky. The stars still defied the sun, twinkling down over Kaon. Already he was up, or rather he never recharged, a bad habit he took up after Orion’s leaving. He shut his exhausted optics tightly, it stung, it was futile attempt to lubricate his optics. His black digits pressed against the railing, tiny craters forming, making the railing lumpy and uneven. It had always been uneven in this spot.

He glanced down between his digits, his denta gritting, he seethed, that glance turned into a fiery glare from Unircon’s underbelly. With a sharp ‘tsk he spun around, lifting his pickaxe and leaving the railing.

Megatron froze, shutting his optics tightly, inhaling the freezing morning air, with a snarl he swung around, his processor flooding with a million words, a million situations, every possible outcome. And not one would Orion listen. His pickaxe flew, slamming down on the railing, splitting it in half, the dull clang echoed back at him. Megatron burned, it was a fire that had replaced his spark ages ago, his ped pinned the railing below. 

**Megatronus & Orion**

It was carved into the railing so long ago, carved after Megatron took the crown. The night Orion pulled him close, and they fell into the massive berth, the night he foolishly opened his chassis plates. Then Orion did, and he felt it, everything that was Orion, and Orion felt him, his purest form. The next morning Orion was up first, carving their names into the railing.

Megatron swiftly left the destroyed railing, his spark spinning wildly out of control. He made his way through his city, nodding to mechs left and right, he knew that no other royal was this close to their subjects. Starscream didn’t work alongside common mechs, everyone knew that Ultra Magnus hid in his castle. He turned towards the mines, patting another miner on the shoulder. They all loaded up on the lift and sank below the Kaon surface.

The mines were another world, dotted with colorful jewels, sparkling metals, and glowing energon. The faint clanging echoed around them, making its own rhythm. Megatron stepped into his own tunnel, nodding to a few mechs before stopping at his current line. With ease he lifted the heavy axe and slammed down on the line, energon breaking and falling to his peds. Energon was always the hardest to mine, too compact and always too thin of a line, thus Megatron mined it. 

It didn’t take long for his axe to get a rhythm of its own, the whole mine filled with the oddly peaceful clanging, the rumble of the carts and the clatter of rocks. That’s when he heard the humming or the miners, it was hard to not hum with them. Then there was a whistle, and it began. 

“Well let me tell you the story of a mech called Orion. 

He put ten shanix in his space, and kissed his bonded.

Well did he ever return? 

No he never returned and his fate is still unlearned (what at pity). 

He may travel Cybertron forever,

He’s the mech who never returned,

Orion handed in his shanix leaving Kaon high and dry,

And he changed for a new name,

But did he ever return?

No he never returned and his fate is still unlearned (poor old Orion),

He may wonder Cybertron near and far,

He’s the mech who never returned,

Now, all night long Orion searches Cybertron,

Crying “What will become of me? How can I go home? Kaon is where I belong!”

But did he ever return?

No he never returned and his fate is still unlearned (shame and scandal)

He may wonder Cybetron forever,

He’s the mech who never returned.

Orion’s bonded wait for him every cycle,

Every cycle as the sun sets waiting with spark open,

But did he ever return?

No he never returned and his fate is still unlearned (he may wonder forever)

He may search near and far all over Cybetron,

He’s the mech who never returned.

He’s the mech who never returned,

He’s the mech who never returned,

He’s the mech who never returned,

Where’d you go Orion?!”

The miners finished and Megatron’s axe felt heavy in his servos, he pushed it into his subspace, shutting his optics and pressing his helm against the tunnel walls. “Where’d you go Orion?” The rumors spread quickly, like a disease, and all of Kaon had their suspicions. Then that cycle, the one Orion left, Megatron fell apart, Kaon knew it, they noticed their king’s behavior. So he told them, everything, who Orion was, and what happened.

He expected the mechs to be upset, unhappy with his choices, but strangely enough they seemed to villainize Orion. Most of his citizens defend his choice, even some set up search parties, hunting for Orion. But Orion was truly lost. It was touching in a way, knowing that Kaon wasn’t really a kingdom but a family of sorts.

Megatron left the tunnel, his peds dragging behind him, some miners stopped and patted his shoulder. 

That’s what Kaon knew, they didn’t know about the spark growing next to his, or the hidden Kaon prince. Sure there were stories, but Deadlock hardly looked like Megatron, his looks were from Orion and Orion’s creators. Deadlock’s strength, plates, and superb skills in battle was from Megatron. 

The king slipped into the castle once more, his frame pulling him down with each step. He stumbled up the stairs, turning and halting at the dusty doors. Strange one handle seemed to have some servo prints.  _ Wouldn’t be the first time some mech was mixed up. _ He rolled his optics pushing the door open.

Greeted with an all too familiar chilly sight. Broken windows and torn curtains flying in the wind, dust covered everything, all but a few ped steps. With a heavy spark Megatron made his way down the hall, shivering at the cold gust. His servo reached out and pressed against the tiny servos, going over the red, then the blue and once more the red servo. His optics screwed shut and his peds scrapped against the floor, he vented inwards. Turning towards the first room, he stepped in, taking in the sight. 

It was just like how he left it, the shelves lined with old toys and slugs. Everything was in its place, covered in dust and almost frozen in time. A small smile pulled up his intake and he pressed on, gently grazing digits over a few items. Only stopping at a few containers, his spark seized as he pulled one down, sitting on the bench and popping open the dusty cube.

Instantly optics watered, the first item that his optics were greeted with a photo. It was old, a bit wrinkled, it was the cycle Deadlock came into this world. He was so small, Megatron could hold him in one servo. The tiny sparkling turned to him, chirped and wiggled his finals. It was only when Deadlock squeaked and reached for Megatron’s other servo did he finally react. 

Before the king knew it washer fluid was welling up around his optics, he set the photo aside and peered into the container. It was all Deadlock’s, tiny plates he grew out of, old paintings, poorly written cards. He sucked in some cool air and set it all back in, his throat restricting. Popping open another container relieved a tarp, it was plush and worn, like someone dragged it through the mines. He laughed at that, Deadlock never wanted to leave his side, he would somehow sneak out and find Megatron in the mines. Always getting under Megatron’s peds, squeaking and beeping. Megatron soon gave up and let the tiny bitlet join him, Deadlock would curl up on Megatron’s shoulder deep in recharge. He set the tarp aside and his engines stalled looking down at the data slug. Pressing it into his personal datapad he waited until it loaded.

_ “Hehe, so I know you get this from your sire, but there’s no way you get waking up in the middle of the night cycle from him.” _

_ It was Deadlock, tiny, so tiny, he was in his alt mode, tipped over wheels spinning in frustration. The tiny bitlet honked and wiggled. _

_ “Come on little one, you can do it.” Megatron said leaning over the berth. _

_ Deadlock pushed himself up by using his door and fell onto his wheels, with an excited beep his mini engine roared and his tires squealed. The tiny frame zoomed off, creating skid marks in his wake.  _

_ Megatron laughed, trying to follow the tiny frame. _

A tiny drop of washer fluid fell and he pulled the slug, setting it back into the container, the lid shut with a dull empty thud. His digits still rested on the container and he vented, staring down at his peds. “I don’t get it.” He croaked. “You’re supposed to be here, with me, sharing theses and...and.”  _ Don’t do it, you know what will happen. Don’t.  _

The bond was cold, maybe it was always cold? No, there was a time it burned. He reached across it, his spark constricting in his chassis. Need, he needed it, just something, anything, anger, sadness, even Orion’s rage, he just needed to know he wasn’t alone. 

_ Nothing, what did you expect you fool? _ He slammed the bond shut and gasped, finally allowing his frame to crumble. Collapsing onto the floor, mimic the fall of a mine shaft, Megatron curled in on himself, letting his optics bleed out washer fluid. “Why aren’t you here?” He asked, always asking and met with nothing. “You’re supposed to be here, we’re supposed to laugh and, and,” He wheezed, screwing his optics shut. “Orion, please.”

He regretted destroying the railing, he wanted to go back and just hold onto it for a while longer. Feel Orion’s carving work, and just know that for a little while he had Orion there with him. 

Slowly the king rose once more, pushing aside the containers, and the fond memories. Stealing himself away once more, the door shut behind him and he turned to his right, seeing the other door. He hadn’t been in that room in ages, but the door was open, he wandered over and peered in.

Spitfire was laying on the sparkling berth, curled up tightly, it was only when the door creaked that the fox turned to Megatron.

“So this is where you’ve been?”

The fox stared at him, then sunk back down on the tiny berth. 

Megatron didn’t bother to push the fox out, instead he pushed his heavy frame into the room. The windows were broken, the curtains torn, the shelves were falling down, everything was in ruins and smashed. The only thing that wasn’t was a tiny container.

The strain was too much, the world rose above him as his knees gave out, his spark throbbed. An unbearable burn spread through his frame, the world rang around him and his optics glitched. Spitfire was at his side in a moment, the fox whined and licked his servo. 

It was such a small container.

Spitfire didn’t leave his side for the rest of the cycle, or the night cycle, the fox was welded to him. He didn’t mind, the fox was sweet, pretty goofy at times and honestly reminded Megatron of Deadlock’s and Rodimus’ antics. 

The king sighed reading another proposal and agreeing with the development, he set the datapad down and left his desk. The castle was so quiet into the night cycle, then again it was lacking two speed frames. Megatron dragged his peds into his hab and fell onto the berth. Spitfire joined him, yet the fox seemed alert, unease.

“What is it boy?” Megatron asked scratching the fox’s ear.

Spitfire whined and turned to the door.

“Ah, waiting for Rodimus?” Megatron snorted, his processor dulling with the need to recharge. “Don’t worry they’ll be ho-” He jerked up, optics wide. “They’re not home now?!” He shot off the berth, every system and subsystem in his frame crashed with errors. “Where are they?!”

* * *

The ball slowly died down and Optimus relieved himself from his post, nodding to Hound as he stepped down the stairs and made his way to the balcony. Maybe it was old habits but he pulled himself against the railing, his servos wrapping around the solid stone. He squeezed his optics tightly. “He’s alive.” Under his battle mask Optimus smiled, for the past half solar cycle his spark had been in his throat, waiting, watching, and tonight he found out that Rodimus was alive. 

_ The two tiny optics turned to him, washer fluid running down his chubby cheeks. “I don’t understand.” _

_ _ _ Optimus knelt down, pulling Rodimus into a hug and picking him up. He didn’t understand either, Rodimus’ creators never came, they broadcasted the mechling’s face all over Iacon. And no one ever came. “I...I.” _

_ _ _ “Maybe they don’t want me?” Rodimus mumbled, curling in on himself. _

_ _ _ It was spark breaking, seeing the tiny mechling so distressed. Rodimus at first seemed to be a trouble maker, always getting the young prince into something but never leaving Thunderclash on his own. Rodimus was untamed, wild and bright, very bright. Optimus held the tiny frame close. “Hush little one,” His engine purred, trying to comfort the tiny mech.  _

_ _ _ “I...I really don’t have a home do I?” _

_ _ _ “Rodimus,” He sat down, letting the yellow and orange sparkling balance on his leg. “You do have a home, and a family.” _

_ _ _ Rodimus sniffed, leaning against Optimus’ chassis. _

_ _ _ His spark warmed, it seemed that Rodimus was starting to calm down. “For now this will be your home.” _

_ _ _ “Okay.”  _

_ _ _ Optimus snapped his battle mask back, smiling down at Rodimus. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to make this your home.” _

He couldn’t recall the last time he cried tears of joy, maybe it was when Megatron asked him to bond? Thick globs of washer fluid fell between his servos. “The little fragger is still fighting.” He saw the dance, the defiant flame that was Rodimus, forcing every set of optics on their dance. It was powerful, fast, and refused to back down. He watched as Rodimus was thrown and then caught by none other than the Kaon prince. “Prince Deadlock.”

His spark ached, it always had, the bond wasn’t settled, it was a weak one, unused and thin. But it was still there, hanging on to his spark, they just started the ‘honeymoon phase’ where they were almost inseparable, and then he left. “It makes sense, the king found himself another mate.” He vented, his wires boiled and his denta clenched down. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to break something. He wanted to hear his tires scream as he crossed the desert and marched up those steps, grab hold of Megatron’s shoulders and shake him. 

Optimus glared at the faint outline of Kaon, his home, before turning away, stomping into his quarters and falling almost painfully into his berth. “Don’t think about it.”  _ Don’t think about it. You made your choice, you left and he found a better mech.  _ The ceiling stared down at him and he glared back up, his spark burning and the stubborn weak bond pulled at him. He snarled.  _ You really shouldn’t be doing this. Think of something else, focus on something else. _

_ _ It only took a few vent cycles for Optimus to give up, instead of recharge he found his peds dragging his frame around the castle. He passed the ballroom, seeing it was almost fully cleaned up and a few guests were still drunk and were sitting on the floor. From there he made his way to the king’s quarters, nodding to Hound. Somehow Optimus found himself in the gardens, sitting under the willow tree.  _ I wish Kaon had a tree like this. _ Optimus cursed himself, laying down on the bench under the tree. “So...Kaon has an heir.” 

The next cycle he woke to two things, Iron Hide yelling his name while running through the castle, and the blinding light of the sun above. With a groan Optimus sat up, rubbing his optic shutters and feeling his struts stretch and pump oil into his joints. “Yes?!” He called hunching over.

Iron Hide ran up to his side, venting hard and clearly panicking. “Captain Optimus.”

“Hmmm?” He waved his servo, it was too early for this, and spending a recharge cycle thinking about Kaon’s king wasn’t helping.

“It’s the prince, he’s missing.”

Optimus jumped up, his spark racing as he ran to the throne room, stumbling to a halt. He came face to face with king Ultra Magnus, and king Overlord. The two clearly agitated. “My apologies kings.”

Overlord sneered, rolling his optics and folding his arms. “Well I think it’s pretty clear what happened.”

Perceptor joined them shortly. “I’ve confirmed the oil in the library is Thunderclash’s, Rewind has yet to be found and medic Ratchet is also missing.”

_ Oil? _ Optimus turned to the scientist. “What are the facts?”

The smaller red and black mech cleared his intake. “It seems at some time in the night Thunderclash went to the library, we suspect he was followed, not by one mech but two. At the time the prince fell, it’s suspected he was attacked, but the oil does indicate it was an internal injury. Rewind must have called medic Ratchet, he either didn’t see the attackers or trusted them. However we did find some oil ped steps in the library (Rewind’s), the medical bay (Ratchet’s), and a few oil trails that lead out of the library and to the kitchen.”

Optimus nodded, whoever did this knew of the castle layout, but who was in the kitchen at that time? He snapped his digits and commed Iron Hide. “Did anything suspicious occur last night in the kitchen?”

“Yes, 5 royals were trying to escort a drunk mech out secretly.” 

“That doesn’t make sense, you would have known it was the prince.” Optimus finished.

“Well, it is banned in Iacon, but the use of holographic desigues are allowed in other kingdoms.” Overlord put in.

Already Optimus didn’t like how his tank turned, that sly look the king had in his optic, he knew where this was going. “Are you implying something?” His spark burned and he fought to keep his servos still. 

The king frowned. “I’m saying that there were only a servoful of mechs who weren’t from Iacon. It could be that either the king Starscream is planning something, or that runt of a Kaonite heir is behind this.”

He felt his denta clench down. “That could be, however what would they gain from this?”

The king shrugged. “I’m unsure.”

Optimus sizzled.  _ Rodimus, he’s pinning this on Rodimus and Megatron’s heir! Right now I could cut him in half, no one could stop me. _ Optimus vented, forcing his fans to stall and to ease back. “Very well. King,” He turned to Ultra Magnus who seemed to be glaring at Overlord.  _ I can’t send a party, whoever did this (and it’s not Rodimus) they knew how to get in and out of the castle. They somehow knocked out Thunderclash, so they’re a threat. None of my mechs are prepared for this.  _ “May I track down the kidnappers?”

Ultra Magnus cocked an optic ridge. “Why would you go?”

“I am the best tracker, and I’m sure my mechs will keep the castle underwraps while I’m away.”

The king slowly rose to his peds. “Very well, I trust this matter in your servos.”

Optimus thanked the king, turning away from the throne room, there he finally let the smoke out of his stacks.  _ It’s not Rodimus! He would never do something like this! And the very idea that prince Deadlock would either is insulting to every Kaonite!  _ He really wished he cut Overlord in half.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Megatron is going through something, it's the fact that Deadlock is all grown up now, and he's left with the memories. Memories he's suppose to share with Orion, and now that they're both gone, he's kinda there. I did base this off of a good family friend of mine who is going through a divorce, she pulled out their son's old clothing and just broke down. She's doing alright and I keep an eye on her, dear sweet lady.   
Also the whole Kaon kingdom is pretty supportive, after everything Megatron did to fix everything, let's say they really do favor Megs.  
Optimus is also going through the same emotions, Rodimus is on his own now, and he misses the little fragger. Not only that but he's facing the idea of Megatron moving on after him, that Deadlock is another mech's, and on the other servo he left, so he really can't be angry with anyone but himself.
> 
> So any theories? I may or may not respond to them.


	9. Stop Me If You’ve Heard This Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang's on the way, they going on a lil adventure!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus: Tried and ready to kick aft  
Deadlock: Bitch doing his best  
Ratchet: Eh  
Rewind: Lonely, I'm so lonel-oh hey what's that?  
Optimus: What do you got? Rodimus WHAT DO YOU HAVE?!  
Megatron: Control the spice, control the worms!   
Megatron gets the best lines y'all ;)

“Sun’s starting to come up,” Deadlock muttered, yawning and stretching his arms over his helm. Rodimus watched the prince, spotting the large fangs that jutted out of his intake, a clear sign of Kaon background. Then there was Ratchet who clearly stopped working on Thunderclash’s wounds to watch the prince stretch only to flinch at the sight of the fangs.  _ Nasty.  _ Rewind was the one with the most energy, being that he hitched a ride with Ratchet the whole night, little mech was crawling all over the cave, documenting whatever he could.

“Oh, look at this, there’s a fossil of a diesel fish here.” He leaned down dusting off the fish. “I’m guessing this cave was once a river bed at some point that led into the sea.”

Rodimus flopped down in his old recharge spot, finding it oddly cozy. “So I guess the rust sea was once an actual sea?”

“Oh yeah, there’s a few buildings in Iacon that are clearly meant for fishing and water transport, then one day the rivers dried up and the sea died.” Rewind continued . “I think the shuttles have a better history about the sea, they’ve been here the longest.”

“Must’ve been pretty.” Ratchet added, then hissed as he removed another plate from Thunderclash. “Primus, poor kid.” 

Rodimus glanced over, seeing Ratchet’s headlights reflecting off of Thunderclash’s internal systems. “What’s wrong?”

The medic’s face soured at the sight. “What’s right would be an easier question. Poor kid, most of his tank lines have ruptured, thus his engine has been fueling on his own oil, and that’s bad on a number of levels. He’s blown a few fuses and his systems are still trying to use them, and that on top of the oil consumption in his engine? Pretty much we’re lucky his engine didn’t explore and a piston hadn’t shot out.” Ratchet huffed.

Rodimus rose up to his peds and leaned over, his face scrunching up at the foul scent of oil.

“That,” Ratchet pointed at Rodimus. “That’s your system telling you that burnt oil is very bad.”

Rewind was still recording as he climbed up Rodimus’ back, the mini whistled. “Ow, just, ow.” He sat on Rodimus shoulders. “Can he recover?”

A question Rodimus found himself asking all night, even as he towed the massive mech through the sands. 

Ratchet hummed, poking and prodding at the stained black lines. “Maybe, if we’re lucky he might make a full recovery, just means his systems are weak, might never have high grade again.” He picked up a line and shown a light at it, but the light went right through the line. “High grade would burn right through this. It would take a strict diet and a lot of surgery but his systems might recover.” 

Rodimus felt his own tanks squirm as the sight, gagging at the foul stench, his optics trailed up from the horror, Thunderclash looked so unbothered. Kinda peaceful, but not, his face was pale, his lips cracked, bags under his optics.  _ He looks dead. _ Rodimus felt his spark leap into the back of his intake.

Deadlock placed a servo on his other shoulder. “You’re worn out, get some rest.”

“Good idea Twinkle toes,” Ratchet didn’t even look up from his work. “Actually you both should get some rest. I’m planning to get him patched up and crash myself.”

“Someone needs to keep watch.” Rodimus countered.

Rewind jumped down from his shoulder. “I don’t mind, besides I wasn’t towing all night, go on you two, I’ll keep watch.” Rewind made his way to the front of the cave, jumping up on a boulder and swinging his peds. “Besides I’ve got a lot of footage to edit.”

Rodimus pulled himself away from Thunderclash’s side, knowing he would only get in Ratchet’s way if he stayed. Once more he fell into his little recharge hole, not really comfy without a tarp.

A ped pushed against his chassis. “Move fat aft.” Deadlock snapped and flopped down next to Rodimus. The prince yawned and made himself comfortable. “Next time we should’ve brought tarps.” He shrugged. “Upside is you’re a little heater,” then the prince cocked his helm back to look at Ratchet. “Hey whenever you’re done, wanna join us?”

Ratchet stopped, somehow he kept a neutral face and flicked oil on Deadlock. 

Red, red dead, looking without seeing. It made his tanks turn, those lifeless optics, there was no spark behind them. Rodimus stood at the cave entrance, his plates shivered, and yet he couldn’t turn away. The sun was setting and a golden glow filled the cave, it was pretty, to him the best memories always were around this time.  _ The time that Rewind told them that the library was a safe heaven. Optimus throwing his frame into the town square’s fountain, then the square erupted into a spoiled energon fight. Then there’s that night… _ Rodimus felt his stubborn spark crawl up his intake. “So.”

Thunderclash blinked, his face plates hardly showing any emotion.

Rodimus vented. “I guess you’re fine.” He shrugged, finally turning away from Thunderclash and down to Deadlock, who was half sprawled over Ratchet. He leaned down, lightly shaking Deadlock’s shoulder. “Come on Deadders, morning.”

Deadlock shot up, sword already in servo, Rodimus’ own saber caught the prince’s blade. Deadlock’s frame relaxed and vented. “Oh, sorry.”

The clank of their blade woke up the grumpy medic, Ratchet grumbled, rolled away from Deadlock, mumbling under his breath. “Alright, I’m up, I’m up.” He waved his servo at the two of them, then gasped. “And he’s up.”

Rewind was the last to wake up, the little mech found himself a tiny spot in the wall, jumping down. “Yeah, Thunderclash is up, is that bad?”

Ratchet hummed, flashing a light in his optics. “Yes and no. His systems are adjusting to the emergency shut down codes, to put it simply Ultra Magnus would need at least 3 cycles to wake up from that dose.” He flashed the light in Thunderclash’s other optic, then snapped on each side of his helm. “Alright bring your servo to your helm.”

Thunderclash did, then the other.

“He seems fine,”

“He was staring at me.” Rodimus snapped, folding his servos and glaring at the prince.

“Huh, well. Thunderclash, whoever I point to, you name, okay?”

Thunderclash nodded. 

Ratchet pointed to himself.

“Royal Medic Ratchet.”

Then to Rewind.

“Archival librarian Rewind.”

Then to Deadlock.

“Prince Deadlock of Kaon.”

Finally Ratchet pointed to Rodimus.

Thunderclash’s intake snapped shut, his helm tilted to the side, optics narrowing. “I don’t know.”

Rewind cringed, Deadlock reached for him, but Rodimus quickly left the cave. His servos squeezed into fists and his peds kicked up orange sand. That was some damage, and not a drop of acid on his plating, but more like his frame was thrown into a pond of acid.  _ I don’t like this feeling.  _ Painful claws dug into his spinal strut and up to his spoiler, tearing away his plates and pulling him apart. And there that little black creature burrowed into his chassis, making itself a home. Rodimus swallowed everything down, the ache, the sadness, that weak feeling in his knees. “I’m going to tear that fragger down.” He snarled through clench denta.

He took a moment, venting, shutting his optics to the point that they hurt. Then he forced his processor to clear. “Alright,” He called back into the cave. “It’s sunset, we should get going.”

* * *

“We ventured forward into the endless void, our tires kicking up sand, the known on our bumpers, and the unknown before us. Each of us asking question after question, where will this adventure take us? Will our injured passenger regain the rest of his processor? What consequences will we meet once we return home? But now our daring quest has taken us to the sea, away from Iacon, from Kaon, and towards the mountains, to the kingdom of Vos and the pernicious peaks that not even the shuttles of Vos dare to explore.”

“Hey Rewind?”

He glanced down between his legs. “Yeah Ratchet?”

“Mind shutting up?”

Rewind huffed. “Oh come on, aren’t you a little excited?”

“No.”

Rewind fell against Ratchet’s roof. “Really? You’re going on an adventure, getting your tires on the road, and out of that dusty castle. Besides when was the last time you, I don’t know, did something?”

Ratchet huffed. “Fine I’m having ‘fun’, does that make you happy?”

“No, I don’t think you’ve got a fun line of coding in you.” Rewind gave up, glancing over to Deadlock who was pulling Thunderclash, then to Rodimus. “They’re an odd couple.”

“Yeah.”

“I know it’s a bit dark, but if Thunderclash doesn’t make it (and I hope he does, really sweet kid) I can see them.” He gestured to the two speed frames.

Ratchet snorted. “Oh please, that would never happen.”

“What? Why?”

“Watch them, you’ll understand.”

Rewind groaned. “Ratchet, I’m a camera, I have been watching them. What am I not seeing?”

“Keep watching them, you’ll figure it out. Besides Rodimus isn’t bonded to Thunderclash, but it takes a certain amount of time to find one’s t-cog trigger line.”

“What are you going on about?”

“Imagine I’m winking.”

Rewind gasped. “You mean? I thought that? Oh those two hounds.” He whispered. 

Ratchet laughed. “Each frame has it in a different area, and even a medical professional has trouble finding them.” 

Rewind hummed watching the clouds above them drift over the sea of stars. “Hey Ratchet?”

“Yeah?”

“Think I’ll ever find someone? You know someone that makes my processor slow and my spark do that thingy?” His servos folded together and rested over his spark chamber.

“Yes, trust me you’ll find someone, and where you least expect it. Somehow Ultra Magnus found someone, so there’s hope for you.”

“Thanks.” He snapped, but admitted that it was reassuring in a way. Once more Ratchet drove in silence, and Rewind charted the stars. The dark blue clouds drifted by, threatening to rain, but they all knew that it hadn't rained there in over 20 solar cycles. The stars twinkled and danced above them. Then he spotted it, a lone seeker, no it wasn’t a seeker, there wasn’t the trademark wing pattern, but it was close. Maybe a hybrid? Strange, who would be flying this late at night? And alone? Whoever they were disappeared into the sky once more, the gang never heard their jets. “Strange.”

* * *

“Sun is coming up soon.” Ratchet said.

“Alright, switch Deadlock.” Rodimus drove up beside the prince, Deadlock assured he could do most of the pulling for this cycle, being that he was used to it. Rodimus’ servo reached out, grabbed the chain, Deadlock’s servo grabbed it from Rodimus and attached it to him. Then the prince gave him a good yank checking to see if it was attached. Deadlock pulled away, and Rodimus took over. He drove for about half a mile and then the chain grew heavy and he was kicking up dirt. “What the?” Rodimus let his tires slow to a stop, then he put himself into first gear and pushed, they moved a little then slowed to a stop. 

Deadlock circled back, and jumped into his root mode. “Did you hit something?”

“No,” Rodimus huffed. “We’re in the desert, what can we hit?”

“Hmm,” Ratchet joined them, stopping behind Thunderclash. “That’s it, dipstick put on his breaks.”

“He what?!” Rodimus snapped into his root mode, grabbing the chain and wrapping it around his arm. “You do not put your brakes on when I’m towing mister!” Rage burned in his spark as he pulled the massive truck vehicle after him. Thunderclash’s frame followed, and then stopped as his breaks were engaged even more. “Really?!” 

“Uh,” Rewind hid behind Ratchet. “Is this normal?”

“If you learn one thing from this, never ever put your breaks on when someone is towing you.” Ratchet mumbled, changing into his root mode and watching the pissed guard drag Thunderclash. He leaned towards Deadlock. “Why didn’t Thunderclash give you any trouble?”

Deadlock shrugged. “I don’t get it, like he was on autopilot the whole time, and then we switched and-” He snapped, “Do you think it could be the...modifications?” He tapped his helm.

“Okay I can’t watch this anymore,” Ratchet stepped forward. “Rodimus, let me try something.”

“Fine, fragging pile of slag!” He dropped the chain and stomped off. “Not like I’m risking my helm for you, you ungrateful-” Rodimus vented, now he understood why Optimus lost it when Iron Hide slammed on his brakes. First things first, that slag hurt! His whole under-frame was pulled. Rodimus rolled his shoulders, then stretched his legs. The tiny creature in his chassis was clawing deeper into his frame now. His optics landed on Thunderclash again. “Ratchet changed him into his root mode, I’m kicking his aft!”

“Nope!” Deadlock stepped between them, holding Rodimus back. “Alright, come on, I’ll pull him for the rest of the night, okay?”

“Don’t need to.” Ratchet called, pulling his hand out from under Thunderclash. “I just cut his breaks, his parking brake, and put him in neutral. So all should be good.”

Rodimus vented. “No, I'm towing, you take point.” He patted Deadlock’s shoulder and stood over Thunderclash. “So that kind of slag again, you’ll wish he left you with Overlord.” Once more he was hooked up, not only did his frame hurt, but the fact that they’ll be caught by the sun for now and lost time. That soured his mood and he floored it, kicking up sand onto Thunderclash.

* * *

His blue peds stopped at the edge of Iacon, the 4 sets of tire marks clear as day. He knew one set very well. Optimus vented, he was torn, his duty to his kingdom, or Rodimus? The captain turned back to the castle, then to the edge of Iacon. “Rodimus.” His spark sunk, he really didn’t want to do this, but he had to. His engine roared and he left Iacon.  _ Rodimus please tell me you’re tracking down Thunderclash! _

* * *

“Sand!” He yelled kicking the dune. “I don’t like sand! It’s course, rough, and irritating! And it gets everywhere!” He gestured to his frame that was pouring sand. “I’ll take mud, dirt, frag even sludge over this any day!” Megatron shook his frame, waterfalls of sand-sandfalls fell from every crevice and plate on his frame. The king groaned, glaring at Iacon. “Deadlock, I know there’s a lot of your sire in you, you’re stubborn, foolish, but this?! Running the frag away? YOU’RE! JUST! LIKE! YOUR! SIRE!” 

Megatron shut his intake, venting. “I’m kicking their afts, that’s it, I’m just going to have to.” He shook his helm. “Orion if I ever find you, I’m going to grab you by your neck and shake you like a rag doll, you did this to me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Megatron looks at Orion*: You know those walmart fights?  
Orion: Yeah?  
Megatron: Good  
*Orion hears boss music*   
Meanwhile  
*Optimus grabbing any mech that somewhat looks likes Deadlock*:Did you fuck my bonded?  
That poor mech: What?  
Optimus: Did. You. Fuck. King. Megatron.
> 
> I'm still down to hear theories tho! (not gonna lie some of y'all getting pretty close)


	10. You're The Sand Between My Treds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron the slag maker? More like momma's worried and she's got her dog!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Megs is life goals!

Iacon.

The oldest kingdom, the only one with the longest recorded history, some historians argued that the shuttles that lived in the mountains were the first kingdom. Then again no one ever said that to an Iaconian. His peds haven’t touched this ground sense he was a sparkling, and yet definitely Megatorn pressed forward. He grumbled, hating that stand stuck between his treds, his plates, and somehow got into his protoform. The capital stood proudly before him, he spotted the glittering silver castle, knowing that king Ultra Magnus was there.

He watched as citizens parted, staring at the strange new frame, half way into the city he changed into this root mode. Spitfire jumping off of his frame and yapping. The mechs around him gasped, some stared, and one simply said. “King Megatron?”

He ran up the stairs, his spark in his intake, hoping to find his little Deadlock on the stairs, or outside, anywhere. Every piece of his frame begged Primus that the prince was here, that Deadlock was safe, and just foolishly over charged. That Rodimus was with him, and that they were caught up with something. Guards stopped him, staring at him with wide optics. Spitfire jumped up and down between his peds

“Megatron?”

“He’s Megatron?”

Megatron growled. “Where is prince Deadlock? Where is his guard?” He glared at the two of them. Glad that his height scared them to their cores.

“Uh, we uh-”

He snarled. “Where’s king Ultra Magnus?”

“King Megatron?” A thick oily coated voice chilled his spark, Megatron turned to face a mech. One that he wished his optics had never had the ‘pleasure’ of connecting the information to his processor again. King Overlord.

Spitfire snarled.

Megatron felt his tanks spin, drive, and do barrel roles, much like Starscream’s trine when they performed. He invented and pulled up his walls. “King Overlord.” He nodded in greeting.

“What can we help you with Megtron?” He stopped resting a servo on Megatron’s shoulder, grinning.

His whole frame wanted to purge, tensing up and the weight of his canon grounded him, then there was the soft growl from the turbo fox between his peds. “I need to speak to King Ultra Magnus.”

Overlord nodded. “Come along, I’ll take you to him.”

Megatron waited a moment, staring at the blue back struts before following, his trigger mechanism became itchy. He kept his distance, Spitfire’s plates were ruffled as the turbofox stalked Overlord.  _ This is where Rodimus grew up, stuffy. Then there’s him, Overlord.  _ Spitfire’s teeth flashed and Megatron stared down at the tiny mirror that reflected his spark.  _ I sympathize with you, tiny thing, Rodimus has trained you well.  _ Megatron licked his lips. “So, Overlord, why Iacon?”

The blue mech stiffened, but offered Megatron a sly glance. “Iacon has a rich history, they are the most developed kingdom. I simply want to join our two kingdoms.” They stepped into the throne room.

Megatron paused for a moment, he admitted it was rather...pretty, white marble walls, with gold and silver trim, along with well carved statues and decor. Curtains lined every window, lush rugs filled the floors. At the end of the hall was an elegant door, lined with guards.

“Who is that?” One mumbled.

Overlord paused, nodding to the two of them. “King Megatron is here to visit King Ultra Magnus.”

The two mechs gawked, their optics almost popping out of their helms, one rushed into the elegant doors, only to come back out. “C-come in.” He offered a strained smile.

Megatron thanked him, then stepped into the room. It was the kings quarters, massive, far too much space for one mech, elegant as the rest of the castle. A massive blue mech stood just outside of the hab, on the balcony, he nodded towards Megatron. “King Ultra Magnus?”

“King Megatron, come, I’ve sent for some tea.” He gestured to the table, only to pause and backfire.

He sat at the table, glad that his aft could fit in the chair, staring at the king.  _ He’s sick, but I’m not sure of what, he’s young, very young. He barely looks a day over 40 cycles? Looks perfectly healthy but that backfire.  _ Megatron sat back as a servant brought forward a tray of energon tea. “Ah thank you, how did you know?”

King Ultra Magnus smirked. “Although our two kingdoms aren’t close, I do try to study and understand the rules of the other kingdoms. I do know that Starscream is rather...impulsive, but well thought out, I do also know he tends to second guess himself and asks for support. Just that I know that you’re a very closed off mech, you keep your private life well guarded, but you also work in the mines with the rest of your kingdom. You try not to be viewed as a king, or well any form of a ruler, rather strange. But I do know that you tend to have a craving towards sweets so,” He gestured to the tea. 

Megatron fixed himself a cube and cocked an optic ridge. “Excuse me?”

“Ah, my bad, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Ultra Magnus lifted his servos and set his own cube aside. “Just tiny patterns I noticed with a few of our trade routes.” 

“Hmmm.” He took a sip, set the cube down, shaving copper into the cube, tasting it, his engine rumbled at the taste.  _ I don’t know how Orion made it, but it’s close.  _ “You must have some hypothesis of why I’ve decided to break isolation of Kaon and visit you?”

“I do, I suppose you’re wandering about your heir, the same as I.”

“Correct, but what has happened?”

Ultra Magnus set his cube down, turning towards the city in front of them. “I’m not entirely sure, but it seems my librarian, Rewind, and medic, Ratchet, have been taken hostage by your guard, Rodimus.”

He frowned, Spitfire whined, jumping onto his lap and sneaking a wafer off the table.  _ That’s not right.  _ “I’m sorry, but there must be a reasonable explanation. I trust Rodimus with the future of Kaon, I don’t understand why he would do something like this.”

“Yes, yes, I trusted Rodimus too, a mistake I hoped you didn’t make yourself.”

Megatron shut his intake, folding his servos and staring out at the Iaconian capital. “If I may ask, don’t you think your heir is a bit young to be...bonded off?”

Ultra Magnus frowned. “Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do, this bonding will decide the fate of Iacon.” He vented.

“Very well. Do you know what direction… the ‘party’ took?”

He nodded,pointing towards the rust desert. “There, I sent my best mech to hunt them down.” He got to his peds. “I hope that for his sake Rodimus is truly innocent, the mech I sent after them trained him, he is one of the best.”

“Hmmm,” Megatron joined him, looking over the city, knowing that his spark was torn, here he was in Iacon where he was sure Orion had hidden away, but he knew now was not the time to search for the lost mech. Instead his heir was much more important. “I hope for both of their sakes I don’t find them.” He grumbled, feeling the weight on his arm, he passed Ultra Magnus nodding to him before taking his leave.

The door slid shut behind him, he thanked the guards and he moved down the hall, pausing as a massive blue figure stood out. “King Megatron.” Overlord smiled, his deep voice was rich and full of oil.

“Overlord.” He spared a glance, making sure to keep his distance and never let the blue frame out of sight. “Tell me, what are you doing here?”

The king rumbled, humming. “I’ve already told you, I’m uniting our two kingdoms.”

Megatron stopped on the castle steps, Spitfire between his peds, snarling at the blue giant. “Very well,” He turned at left.  _ Deadlock, I know that you view Rodimus as one of our own, but if what king Ultra Magnus says is true? _ He stumbled, shutting his optics.  _ No, there’s a reason, Rodimus knows something. And whoever is tracking them down, Primus help him. _ “Spitfire...uh, track?” He asked at the bottom of the steps.

The turbofox yapped, wiggling his tail, his helm tilting to the side.

“Uh...where’s...Rodimus?”

His helm tilted the other way.

Megatron groaned. “I know a turbofox has a powerful sense of smell, surly Rodimus taught you how to track?”  _ Orion why didn’t you ever teach me how to track?  _ “Okay, let’s try this again,” He leaned down, clearing his intake, knowing he was about to make a fool out of himself. “Spitfire,” His voice took on a higher pitch, the same pitch he used when Deadlock could hardly stand on his own two peds.

The turbofox yapped wiggling, giving Megatron his full attention.

“Where’s daddy? Where’s Rodimus?”

The fox stilled, Megatron prayed to Primus. Spitfire licked his nose, his ears twitching, he inhaled and paused, spinning around and darting off into an alleyway. The fox dove into the narrow space, snorting and huffing, dust blew up with each vent and exvent. Then he froze, his whole frame stilling, slowly his tail started to wag and he flipped around, sitting and staring at Megatron.

“You found him?” Megatron still used the high pitched voice.

Spitfire barked, licking his lips, his frame wiggling in place.

“Okay,” Megatron leaned down. “Where’d he go? Where’d daddy go?”

The fox jumped back, his aft up, then his front paws pulled him forward and he bolted out of the alley way, stopping and spinning in a circle, yapping.

Megatron smirked. “Rodimus, I think I’m going to steal your fox, clever little bastard.” He changed into his alt mode and followed after the energetic fox. Two thoughts on his processor, getting Deadlock and Rodimus back, and whoever was on their aft would surly meet the end of his canon. However there was one last thought that crept into the back of his processor.  _ If Iacon should fall under Overlord’s ped, Kaon and Vos will not let that mad mech live much longer. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all liked the mental image of Megatron baby talking to Spitfire.   
Megs @ Overlord: I don't trust this stanky ass bitch  
Also Megs @ whoever is tracking down his babies: I swear to Primus I'll burn your crops, sell your family to slavers and no one will identify your remains  
Meanwhile: Optimus: I'm scared but aroused


	11. I Have The High Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New character!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who he be? What's he up to? Who he be talking to? And most important, he has the high ground!  
So this is going to be short, and I mean short, didn't want to go too far into this one so...I waited till the next chapter is ready so boom! Y'all get 2 for the price of 1!

Wind rocked the crystal trees, breaking off tiny flakes that would deposit across the sandy valley. The moon was bright, so much that one could see the purples in the night sky, and with only moon light and well trained optics he watched. 

“1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 lone travellers in the night, clouds hunt them down, each one worn from the drive that they’re faces form a frown.” He snickered, stepping away from the cliff face and into the hidden cave. “16 spinning rubbers,” He hummed, skipping in, his servo slapping a switch and the tiny cave was filled with light. Then grabbing a cube and holding it under a tube, white energon spilled into it. “In the night,” A chart of the whole valley was hung on the wall, millions of marks decorated it, somewhere small, others were big. “Where will they go, what will they see?” The red pen pressed against the first red mark, where they first appeared, then down, down and then the pen snapped in half. “Oh my.” He tsked, shaking his helm, frame shuttering. “We know what’s there,” His yellow optics turned to his only companion. “The place where the soul less walks, the quiet, still place, slowly sinking into the sand.”

“We know not to go there, frameless mech.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Brainstorm, crazy and mentally unstable, but it's still Brainstorm, good luck Percy!


	12. Northern Travelers Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly talking with angst, but there's something strange about the ruins. The rod-squad are on the case!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet is the best! Giving true advice, a hard pill but honestly if Thunders keeps this up after he's fixed, Rodimus you better get the hell out of there! Just be Ratchet, see some negative bullshit, call it out.   
Ratchet=Pissed goose mom

The sun crawled over the horizon, fighting its way into the sky like a dead warrior. Slowly heating up the sands under their tires. Trails of dust kicked up behind them, Deadlock lead the way with Rewind on his roof, the librarian pointed and they followed. The sun had barely broken the clouds as they came to the ruins.

All of them changed into their root modes, Rodimus unhooked the tow chain, he waited and watched as Thunderclash rose up and stared back at him. They stood there, optics locked, dead red lenses, nothing behind them. He hated how his plates shook, swiftly he turned away from the prince, kneeling down next to Rewind. “What are we looking for again?”

Rewind pulled out his datapad and handed the pad to Rodimus. “The travelers had a lay out, they tried to keep the younger mechs, medics, scientists in the center of the village. The outer rings were traders, warriors and explorers.” Rewind traced a loose map in the sand. There were 3 circles, each labeled. “I can’t remember where I saw the symbol, but it was a small tent, big enough for 2 mechs and they’re goods. There was a certain...flag? It was yellow orange and teal, made of some sort of fabric, I think it was a marker, like a shop name?”

“Alright, let’s split into pairs-”

Thunderclash snorted, rolling his optics. “Sure, like I would take orders from you.”

Rodimus felt Deadlock’s servo on his shoulder, he shut his optics and vented. “Deadlock, you and Rewind go ahead and take this route,” He marked a long line in the sand. “Go left, Ratchet and the prince and I will take right, okay?” He looked up, pulling a tight smile on his intake.

Deadlock stared at him with ruby red optics, pained and concern almost squeezing out of them. “Roddy,” His optics shifted towards Thunderclash, then back to Rodimus. “Are you sure about this?” He whispered.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” His intake hurt from the sharp smile.  _ It would be better to have Hatchet with Deadlock, maybe get them one on one time? _

“Fine,” Thunderclash snapped. “Let’s go guard.” He hissed spinning around.

“Hey dipstick, that’s left, not right.” Ratchet called.

_ I love you so much Hatchet. _ He patted Deadlock’s back before leading them down the right path. 

* * *

Deadlock looked down at Rewind, the tiny mech stared up at him, his recorder light on. “So…” He started grasping for something to discuss with the little mech.

“Is it true that everyone in Kaon mines?”

He reset his optics. “Uh yea, everyone until they can’t, even Megatron mines. It’s not forced but everyone likes to, I mine sometimes, helps clear my helm. Why?” They walked down the path, making notes of the ruins. The huts were mostly covered up with sand, and dust, only a few pieces poked out. Small defiant reminders that said to the desert that there was someone here. 

“Interesting, do you know why Vos and Kaon have had a strong history with one another? Mecha in Iacon refer to the two kingdoms as ‘twins’.” Rewind poked.

“Um, well Vos and Kaon consists of tough frames, seekers, miners and war frames. The similarities to the mecha help, it’s common to see seekers and miners in both kingdoms, even mixed mecha. I suppose that’s why Vos and Kaon are ‘twins’.” He paused spotting a servo, he leaned down and stared at it. Strange it wasn’t covered in bright orange dust. “Hey Rewind.”

Rewind was by his side in a moment. “Yea?”

“I’ve got a few questions myself. How did they die?” He left the servo, knowing it was disrespectful to touch.

“We’re not sure who did it, but one night they were beheaded, all of them.” Rewind vented, staring out at the once flourishing village. “Did they visit Kaon?”

“Yes, I think I saw them once, but I was too young. My carrier was questioning the leaders, but…” He shrugged, shivering, all he could recall from that night was that he felt sick, and Megatron held him as if he would burst into sand. “They didn’t have the answers he wanted.”

“Wait Megatron is your carrier?” Rewind paused, kicking a metal pole that held up a hut.

“Yea.”

“Huh, so do you know who your sire is? Or was?”

Deadlock shook his helm. “None, could we change the topic. I have other questions.”

“Sorry, shoot.” Rewind said moving to a new hut, poking his helm into it.

“Um, what was...what were they like? You know Rodimus and Thunderclash?”

Rewind’s frame slumped, he rubbed his helm and his blinking light flicked off. “They were...Primus, those two, what can I say? They grew up together, as tight as thieves, so close that they would often get Getaway in trouble (Getaway is a duke’s creation). Steal sweets from the kitchen, hide in the garden, sneak off the castle grounds. And Optimus always found them,” Rewind shook his helm, snorting. “They were a couple of trouble markers. But well they started to get new plates, that was a different story. Most of the servants through it was Thunderclash who first got those feelings, Thunders was more open about it, or blind? Poor dope was caught staring, he’s drip and would hardly hear anything. But I know that Rodimus was first.” Rewind laughed. “So he comes into my library, flustered ranting and stomping in the middle of the night.” Rewind stomped on the sand, “Waking my sorry aft up, and I ask him what’s wrong and he stops, towering over me.” Rewind impersonated the stance. “And this is what he said ‘Rewind, when did the prince stop being so gullible and became charming?’” 

Deadlock laughed, easily picturing Rodimus. “So Rodimus caught those feelings first?”

“Oh yea, no doubt, poor fragger was hopeless, worst part was that this was when he was assigned to Thunderclash. There was no escape, and right before his shift came up he would go visit me. I think the only other mech who knew was Optimus, or he might’ve?” Rewind shrugged.

“Huh...So what were they like, together?”

“Unbearable, horrible, and so clingingy.” Rewind shivered. “If I did have an intake I’d be sticking out my tongue.”

They two stopped, coming to a turn, they turned in and kept moving to the middle.

“Thunderclash would always try to get his work done, just to spend time with Rodimus, and Rodimus wouldn’t mind, but he’d at least try to hide it. They used to come into my library and just make out…” Rewind dropped the rest of what he was going to say. “I just know that they really did care about one another, and now.”

“It’s hard on Rodimus.”

“Very hard.” 

Deadlock knelt next to another frame, picking at the exposed ped, strange, this one poked out. There wasn’t a thick layer of dust covering his plates, and it looked like the spark was just snuffed. “Rewind, you said they were beheaded right?” Deadlock asked, pulling at the ped.

“Yea, every single one of them.”

The frame he dragged out was still, heavy, dull but not grey. “So why does this one have a helm?”

* * *

Rodimus pressed past Thunderclash, taking point, saber already out, his spoiler was held up high. His ped steps were light and soft, with each press forward he spotted little details, tiny things. Sparkling toys, data slugs, carved metal, tarps and every now and then a partially buried corpse.

Then Thunderclash pushed past him, shoving into him and pressing onwards, his steps were stomps, shoulders wide. It was an open challenge, and not towards the lifeless corpses, towards Rodimus. 

He boiled, his digits curled into fists and his saber started to creek.

“Kid,” Ratchet stood next to Rodimus, wrapping an arm around him. “Are you sure about this? I don’t think it’s wise for you to be around him.”

Rodimus vented, sheathing his saber. “I know, it’s not good for me, for him to treat me like this, but…” He groaned, his frame hurt, the effort of pulling Thunderclash all night, then searching the ruins with the prince. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Ratchet, of all the mechs, pulled him into a half hug. “I get it, you’re trying, you’re trying so hard to find that tiny spark, something, a little fiber that you can pull on and he’d be back.”

“Yea, that.” He passed another corpse, this one too was helmless, a young one.

Ratchet huffed. “Kid, I want you to promise me something.”

“Huh?” He turned towards Ratchet, feeling his tanks twist and turn. “What?”

The medic jabbed his digit into Rodimus’ chassis. “Do one thing for yourself, if he doesn’t treat you right, looks down on you and tosses you aside when this is all over? You. Walk. Out.” He glared at Rodimus, but there was a certain warmth in those optics, one that Rodimus had seen his whole life. “You walk out like you did before, and you leave this valley, leave Iacon, Kaon and Vos, go over those mountains and don’t you stop.”

“Hatchet?”

Ratchet grabbed hold of his shoulders. “Mechs like that? They’ll walk all over you, and that’s not your Thunders. And I’ve seen it happen, don’t you dare let him or anyone else treat you like that.” he hissed, hurt flashing in his face before he shook his helm. “Rodimus, I’ve watched you grow up, and I don’t want to see some slag destroy you.” He pulled Rodimus into another hug. 

Rodimus eased into the hug, hugging the medic back, glad that Ratchet was here, the medic always knew what to say. “Thank you, and I will.” He snorted, Ratchet might be prickly on the outside but once you got to his center he was soft and sweet, maybe that’s why Deadlock took a liking to him?

“Are you two done?” Thunderclash called, holding open a hut. “Aren’t we supposed to be looking for some dead fragger?”

Rodimus vented, ignoring Thunderclash’s stubborn nature, he slapped Thunderclash’s servo away from the tarp and looked into the hut. Nothing, but the remains of a house hold, there were cubes, sparkling toys and slugs. “Someone lived here, a family unit?” He stepped out.

“What’s with the pout?” Thunderclash jabbed. 

Rodimus boiled, his spoiler flicking back. “Oh I don’t know, maybe we’re walking through a massacre? Is it so hard to ask for a little respect?”

“Oh, respect?” Thunderclash unfolded his arms and stomped towards Rodimus. “How about we talk about you dragging me out here, by force, in the middle of a hot fragging desert? Why? I guess you’re trying to start a war between Iacon and Kaon?” He towered over Rodimus.

Rodimus snarled. “I’m sorry for trying to get your helm fixed, or do you want to die half way down the isle?”

“I didn’t ask for your help, you’re a guard, nothing more, but here you are not doing a simple job. Just let me go back to Iacon and maybe I can make sure Optimus doesn’t execute you! Why is a pathetic low life guard trying to get himself killed?”

“Rodimus,” Ratchet stepped forward.

“Because I lo-” He shut his intake, biting his tongue to the point energon bled out, optics watered. “It’s my fragging job, or it used to be, once you’re fix...once you’re fixed you’ll go back to your happy life and share a berth with that fragger king, okay?”

“Who says I haven’t already?”

Ratchet stepped between the two of them, slapping Thunderclash. “Enough, both of you, okay?”

Rodimus spun around, really wishing he had Overlord’s throat between his servos, imagining what it would be like to pull his wires out one by one, watching his energon leak out. Optics dull as his frame turned grey. He blinked away the washer fluid, forcing himself to vent, his frame shook. “Well good, maybe his spike can shut you up!” He snapped pushing forward.

Ratchet turned to Thunderclash. “I think I should weld your intake shut...Rodimus wait up.” He jogged up to Rodimus, once more wrapping an arm around the guard. 

“I’m an idiot.” Rodimus groaned, he almost said it, he wanted to say it, and wished it would have the same impact that it did back then, back when they spent countless nights up. The tired feeling of his spark returned. 

Ratchet laughed. “Hardly, Rodimus I’ve got a question for you: what’s the other prince’s name again?” He asked, a slight blue under his optics. “I uh, kinda forgot?”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Rodimus poked his helm into another hut, another frame, strange it still had some color to it. “You and him? Wait, you like him?”

“Well, kinda? He’s nice.” Ratchet shrugged. “I didn’t catch his name and I only call him ‘Twinkle Toes’.”

Rodimus leaned down, grabbed the corpse's collar and pulled the frame into a sitting up position, his helm was still attached. “Deadlock, prince Deadlock, heir to the Kaonite throne, and Megatron’s successor.” He cocked an optic ridge and opened the mech’s intake, frangs, long sharp fangs. “I don’t think Rewind’s data was right, there’s quite a few perfectly fine frames.” He let go and turned around to Ratchet.

Ratchet’s optics doubled in size, Rodimus grabbed his saber, they didn’t hear the corpse hit the ground. He spun around his blade colliding with sharp claws, his spark jerked and ached, like something was pulling on it. He stared up at the snarling twisted face, it was split down the middle, the denta stuck out, the frame was thin, sickly looking, and long tendrils whipped around it.

“A sparkeater?” Ratchet mumbled, rushing out of the hab, his peds stumbled to a stop. “Rodimus, this is a sparkeater den!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sparkeaters! Yay!  
Non-clash is petty


	13. Northern Travelers Part 2

“Ratchet get behind me! Where’s the prince?” Rodimus shuffled Ratchet next to his spoiler, his saber stood out, a clear warning to the creatures. The sparkeater snarled and charged towards him, Rodimus was faster, slicing it in 2. “Where’s Thunderclash?” He spun around, spotting another sparkeater his blade drove through it. “Thunderclash!” Rodimus screamed his spark doing back flips as another sparkeater stalked towards them. Ratchet clung to Rodimus’ side, optics scanning the den around them. 

The sparkeater tackled Rodimus, it’s long tentacles circled Rodimus’ neck, the sharp digits crawled into his forearms. Rodimus kicked and bucked but the tentacles, they kept tightening, his spark raced and he felt small, helpless, tiny and insignificant.  _ The massive digits coiled around his neck, squeezing him to the point his vision started to darken and his frame grew heavy.  _

A massive blue servo came down scooping the sparkeater’s helm and with a flick the creature was torn off of him, Thunderclash held up the beast in one servo. It fought and snarled, thrashing out against the prince. That servo, it tightened, and the creature whined, and with a crunch the helm was flattened into a misshapen ball, the prince jerked his arm and tore off the rest of the frame, tossing it aside while still holding the helm.

Rodimus shuffled back, his saber covered his chest, the world around him blurred as he brought his limbs closer to him, a strong ringing filled his helm. The mech turned to him, those dark emotionless optics bored down on Rodimus’ tiny frame, he felt cold, very very cold, his frame started to shake. A blue ped slammed down and the mech towered over him, his face was hidden in the shadows, those optics they didn’t blink, the same energon covered servo reached down-

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” He yelled his blade cutting through the air and striking the prince. Rodimus vented, his frame still trembling.

Thunderclash backed up, pulling his servo to his chest, his optics reset and narrowed, a heavy frown formed on his face. “Gutter trash.” He hissed.

“Rodimus?” Ratchet knelt down resting a soft servo on his shoulder. “Rodimus what was that? You just froze up for a moment?”

He couldn’t talk, hardly could feel the world around him, he only stared at the prince, his spark still racing. Rodimus shook his helm and pulled himself up, saber still at his side.

“They’ve stopped attacking us, they’re...just there.” Ratchet said.

The sparkeaters stood a few steps away, staring at them, intakes open, fangs sharp, drool water falling from them. And they didn’t move towards them. They stared at them, their optics communicating something every creature universally knew, fear. 

The prince rolled his optics. “Cowards.”

A scream cut through the tense air and they jumped. “Rewind, Deadlock!”

The prince was the first to move, slamming a sparkeater out of the way, Ratchet and Rodimus followed, keeping his optics on the colorful frame. 

* * *

Rewind screamed as a frame lurched towards him, he jumped onto the back of the sparkeater and climbed up a pole. Deadlock fought them back, his blade soaked in energon. “Get to higher ground!” He snapped at Rewind.

“I am on higher ground!” He screamed back, the pole wobbled as a sparkeater collided with it, the long tentacles coiling around and pulling it’s frame upwards. The pole groaned and snapped, the two of them fell, Rewind shut his optics as his frame burst through the dirt and something else. 

His frame slammed down on something hard, he gasped and jumped up as the sparkeater snarled. He spun around in the dark tunnel, rushing away from the beast. “Oh Primus, oh Primus!” He ran in the darkness unable to make out the world around him. 

His frame stumbled as soft rays of light broke through the roof, and he spotted a dusty helmless frame in the room. The creature roared behind him, Rewind panicked and climbed up the lifeless frame, reaching for the rays of light. His peds stumbled and he slipped, falling into the corpses’ lap. “I’m going to die, I’m going to die!” He shut his optics and clung to the frame, feeling his spark being pulled from his chassis. 

Then the world jerked around him and there was a whine and a loud sickening pop, Rewind onlined his optics, an arm wrapped around his waist and he was held up in the helmless mech’s arms. The sparkeater’s chassis was crushed under the corpses’ ped.

The frame stood tall, sand and dust fell from it, it held onto Rewind. He fought against the strong grasp, wiggling his tiny frame out of it’s grasp and falling on his helm. “What are you!?” He yelled backing away from the corpse, holding up a small dagger.

The frame stood there, then knelt down and stared to write in the sand.

* * *

The sparkeaters parted as Thunderclash charged forward, Ratchet heard Rodimus behind him, he spared a quick glance back and saw the guard’s dark optics pinned on Thunderclash’s frame. Something happened, or a few things happened back there. Rodimus was white, and he was shaking and what he did? He was trying to protect himself, he was scared, and that reaction, the way he lashed out? He hasn’t done that since he was a bitlet, but only to Optimus and Ultra Magnus, never Thunderclash. Then there was the way Thunderclash acted, like he was put on autopilot, no emotion, no hesitation, and how he was reacting to Rodimus. Ratchet didn’t want to know what might’ve happened to Rodimus if he didn’t lash out. And finally there was the sparkeaters, they saw how Thunderclash acted and shied away, they were scared too. 

The beasts jumped back, uncovering Deadlock. Ratchet felt his spark drop and he slid next to the prince, he was damaged. Ratchet made quick work, patching up the holes, keeping Deadlock’s systems running. “Can you hear me twinkle toes?”

“Yea.” Deadlock’s voice was broken, full of static and uneven, great, that meant they didn’t do too much damage, just tried to tear his spark out. 

Rodimus leaned down, saber out. “Where’s Rewind?”

“Fell.” Deadlock pointed to the gaping hole in the ground. 

“I’m going after him, prince, stay here.” Rodimus snapped.

“Don’t give me orders.” Thunderclash spun around, stomping towards Rodimus.

Rodimus once more pulled his limbs in and held his saber close. “And I don’t care!”

Thunderclash hissed and toward Rodimus, his digits forming into tight painful looking fists. “Then stop caring!”

“I WISH I COULD THUNDERS!” Rodimus slammed his intake shut, washer fluid pooling around his optics. He rushed towards the hole and dove in, slipping away into the darkness. 

Ratchet focused on Deadlock under him, his digits moving faster than any speed frame’s, he patched up tubing, tanks, wires, and started to weld Deadlock’s outer plating together. “Can you move?”

“Yea, but it hurts.” Deadlock mumbled sitting up and flinching at the pain. “Rodimus he-”

“Yea, Rodimus used Thunderclash’s nickname.” Ratchet finished, pulling out a cube of medical grade and adding on iron and lead. “Drink this, slowly.” He held Deadlock’s torso up and waited, keeping an optic on the sparkeaters and Thunderclash. “Something is wrong, seriously wrong.” 

* * *

He did that, he did that, he just did that? Rodimus floored it through the darkness, his optics found the edges and he raced through the tunnels. He just called the prince, that mech out there...He called Thunderclash ‘Thunders’, that hurt, the whole fight hurt, Rodimus couldn’t believe he did that. 

That he still cared, and it hurt, like Thunderclash crawled up inside his spark chamber and stabbed his spark. 

He still cared, and that hurt.

Rodimus drifted to a stop as a ped slammed down, he shifted back to his root mode and stared at a helmless mech that snagged Rewind up, keeping Rewind away from him. “Um?”

“Wait, wait, hold on, he was writing something.” Rewind wiggled in his arms and twisted, looking down at the dirt. “‘Hi, I’m Chromedome, due to a genetic defect my helm can be removed from my frame, and my frame can be put in a coma stasis. You woke me up,’ and that’s all he wrote.”

“Okay, um, hi Chromedome?”

The helmless waved at him.

“I’m no threat, I’m Rewind’s friend, we’re here looking for-what is it called?”

“A Mnemosugernt.” He finished.

The helmless mech jumped up and down, snapped his digits and drew in the sand once more. They watched as the mech drew a perfect symbol the same symbol Rewind showed them.

“‘I know where one is.’” Rewind read out the writing under the symbol, he then turned to Rodimus. “Okay, so another straggler to the Rod-Squad?”

They sat in the tunnels, circled around a small fire. Deadlock leaned against Ratchet who helped him fuel, his arms were too tired to hold the cube and the medic seemed a bit too happy to help. Rewind sat on top of the helmless, right where his helm would be, he held a cube on a long stick over the tiny fire, then poured it down an intake tube that went right into the helmless’ tanks. Then there was Thunderclash, who sat between Ratchet and the helmless, he didn’t do much, just stared at the fire, unmoving, unblinking. Rodimus still had his blade out, and his optics didn’t leave from the colorful prince, right across from the fire. 

“Rodimus, maybe you should rest?” Ratchet asked, rubbing Deadlock’s finals.

He shook his helm, but his frame felt heavy and worn down, recharge sounded nice. “No, not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Not until he’s recharging.” Rodimus pointed at the colorful prince, his spark shriveling up and weeping. “I don’t trust him, and Deadlock is out.”

The prince didn’t flinch, or acknowledge Rodimus’, his servo only reached out and hovered over the flames, he pulled back and continued to stare at the fire.

Rodimus clutched his saber tighter, not taking his optics off of the strange mech. 

Ratchet opened and then shut his intake, venting. “Hey Thunderclash, why don’t you rest?”

The prince shook his helm too.

“What? Why not?”

“Someone is coming.”

“Thunderclash what are you going on about?”

“Listen.”

Rodimus held his vents and stalled his engine, listening. Outside, in the unforgiving sands there was this sound, a howl, and another, it was ghostly and blended in with the winds. Rodimus jumped to his tired peds and waited as the gentle breeze stilled in the tunnel, a solid thud echoed towards them. “Why won’t this day end?” He mumbled. Waiting with held vents, blade ready to strike.

There it was, two optics, bright in the darkness, gold and blue.

Rodimus hissed lifting his blade. “Take another step and I’ll kill you.”

“Now why would you want to do that?” Optimus stepped out, his own blade hung on his hip, arms crossed.

“Optimus?”

“Rodimus.” He nodded, then glanced back, his optics widening with a mixture of shock and disappointment. “Ratchet, Rewind, prince Deadlock, prince Thunderclash, and ummm?”

“He’s new, Chromedome but we’re calling him helmless.” Rodimus hissed. “What are you doing here?”

Optimus stared down at him. “We need to return to Iacon.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm down to hear your theories now! <3 
> 
> OP if you turn back now, you're going to meet up with Megatron, and that is a horrible idea.


	14. The Scientific Methood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy getting some answers!

The scientific method.

Observe.

Perceptor noticed the over all tense nature of the kingdom, that was natural, the prince, Thunderclash has been kidnapped, along with the hall of records helm, Rewind, and the chief medical officer, Ratchet. There two suspects were prince Deadlock of Kaon, and his bodyguard Rodimus of Iacon. 

This left the kingdom of Iacon an unruly mess, much like the inside of a server room, but the wires were all out of sorts. Wires dangled, some were knotted, others were torn, communication was not flowing between the servers. Thus the whole kingdom of Iacon was broken down, and crippled.

Research.

Prince Thunderclash wasn’t the catalyst to Iacon’s dysfunction, he was far from it, that would start with the king, Ultra Magnus. At first glance Ultra Magnus was a king, not a great one, not a terrible one, but he was the king, he had led Iacon through several hard times. But there were some minor issues that Perceptor noticed. 

Ultra Magnus didn’t know everything, he knew his family history, the history of Iacon, in fact Ultra Magnus knew more about the kingdom, but not how to run it. Not how to lead a ball, or prepare a speech. Ultra Magnus knew this, thus he pushed his own son to be better, to know everything that a Iaconain king would ever know.

Then join Iacon with a bigger stronger kingdom, that’s when king Overlord stepped in.

Hypothesis.

Perceptor had many hypotheses in this situation, questions and possible answers bounced around his helm. And yet none of them made total sense.

Thunderclash wasn’t acting himself, he was different, clung to king Overlord.

Ultra Magnus who seems to not know how to lead a kingdom.

Then there was king Overlord, he ruled over the kingdom of Tarn, a massive ruthless kingdom, and Tarn was a whole new mess for Perceptor to unpack.

Finally there was Rodimus, the old body guard of the prince Thunderclash, why would he kidnap the prince? Revenge? Maybe he was in on something? 

Experiment.

Perceptor kept a close optic on the kings, both Overlord and Ultra Magnus, it seemed that something was up between the two of them. 

Ultra Magnus sat in the study, overlooking the map of the kingdoms, Iacon, Kaon and Vos, and finally Tarn. The king stared down at his kingdom, his optics kept flicking back to the map to his servo. “So small, so weak.”

King Overlord sat across the map table, stirring a cube of energex, he hummed and stared out the window, he was watching something, something far in the distance. “Tell me king Ultra Magnus, how long have you been a king?”

“When my sire had passed and I gained the crown, 50 solar cycles.”

“I must ask, what had happened to Thunderclash’s carrier?”

The king was quiet, digits freezing. “He had passed when Thunderclash came into the world, he was a fine mech. The finest mech I had ever met.” 

His optics started to water and the king blinked them away.

King Overlord vented and rose to his peds, he had stopped humming. “It is hard to imagine the great Ultra Magnus so in love with some mech?” His digits cracked and he towered over Ultra Magnus. Like a turbo snake his servos reached out and snagged the king’s throat, Ultra Magnus’ optics grew wide, his servos shot up and clutched Overlord’s. “Shame, there will be no one to know of how much you truly loved that mech.”

** _CRACK!_ **

** ** King Ultra Magnus’ frame stilled.

Perceptor reached for his sniper rifle, aiming for the king’s helm.

Overlord’s helm burst into flames and he stumbled back, energon and and metal plating clattered to the floor, Ultra Magnus’ helm was thrown to the ground. “You!” He clutched his leaking helm. “I knew I recognized you, the sniper from the bulge.” He grinned, energon and wires spilling out of his helm.

Percpetor loaded in another round. “What is your plan, Overlord?”

He snickered. “Simple, take over.”

The still frame, the very still frame slowly sat up, it groaned and hisses. Perceptor felt his spark still and Overlord starred in utter shock. The helmless frame towered over him, there was no energon, no sparks. The massive blur servos formed into fists and punched Overlord in the chassis, the king purged.

“You’re dead! You’re dead!” Overlord screamed.

The frame lifted Overlord up, and threw him through the window, he screamed as he was thrown out of the study. 

Perceptor pointed his sniper towards the helmless mech, his digits twitched and his spark hung in his intake.

The frame hissed and clattered to the floor, the chassis opened up, and a single green servo shortly after a mech crawled out, shivering. He turned to Percpetor, a face the scientist that hasn’t seen in solar cycles. 

“Minimus?”

The green mech huffed and rubbed his helm. “War, this means war, Perceptor.” In a split second he regained his posture and cleared his intake. “Get me Iron Hide, we don’t have time.” He briskly walked out of the study, Perceptor hot on his peds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys are back in town.


	15. Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The strange helmless mech leads them up a mountain, meanwhile Optimus learns a bit more about the next king of Kaon.
> 
> Thunderclash keeps sighing and smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update on this, been working on another fic that I'm trying to crank out monthly.

The green mech was back again, he seemed smaller, older. 

Thunderclash jumped off the chair, sparing a glance at where Rodimus was, somehow the mech started to blend in with the floor. He shivered as his digits dug into the masks, the curtains, ripping and tearing off the useless decorations. The oil started to fall and smother the flames. His spark raced and he finally felt the cool smooth wall.

“You’re getting faster at this.”

He punched it, recoiling as energon spurted from his servo, he hissed slamming his fist down on it again, the same result. They were thicker, stronger now. “Now what?”

“Grab a chair and pick a mask.”

“What does a mask do?” He snapped, he needed to see Rodimus.

The green mech sighed. “It’ll change you, but you can see him.”

Thunderclash stilled, turning towards the masks flung across the floor. “Change me?”

"A disguise.”

He huffed, staring down at them before kneeling down and shuffling through them. Each one held a single emotion, anger, sadness, remorse, he had to pick one. 

* * *

Optimus onlined his optics and sat up, his back struts popping, with a gentle vent he rolled his shoulders. “I’m too old for this.” He grumbled turning to the dead fire in the center of the tunnel. His saber in his servo as he rose to his peds.

The morning light flickered through the floorboards. 

He scooted back and rested his sore back against the stone wall, looking over the recharging camp. Rewind found his own little crevice to duck in, the helmless mech laid next to the tiny black and white mech. Then there was Rodimus, and prince Deadlock, the two were sprawled across each other, the prince’s aft dangerously close to Rodimus’ helm. 

Optimus laughed at the site, Deadlock was Megatron’s alright. He was Megatron’s. His tiny slip of joy dissipated and Optimus pulled his legs up.  _ The king moved on. _

“Morning.” 

He jumped seeing prince Thunderclash towering over him, holding more pieces of wood to burn. “Oh, uh morning?”

He wore a lopsided smile and his optics were dull, but still had some light peeking out, the prince set the wood down. “Ratchet, Optimus is up.” He whispered, his smile not fading. 

The royal medic poked his helm out. “Morning Optimus.” He too carried sticks and set them down in the fire, he huffed and laughed seeing the prince and Rodimus recharging. “Kids.” He smirked and flopped down next to Optimus. “What can ya do?”

Optimus shrugged. “When did you get up?”

“Not too long ago, I heard him waking up, and I wanted to check up on him.” He pointed to Thunderclash. “Freaked me out.”

“So, Thunderclash has had his processor all jumbled and his frame has been taking some damage too. We all suspect Overlord, well, we all know it’s Overlord. We all went ahead and snuck him out.”

“King Ultra Magnus was worried, Overlord was upset.”

Ratchet vented and shrugged. “Well it’s for the greater good, and there’s no way we’re turning around to get all of our helms chopped off and start a war between Iacon and Kaon.”

Optimus nodded. “Very well.”

“Are you going to stay with us? Or return to iacon?” Ratchet prodded.

_ If I go, I will have to handle both kings. If I stay, I can protect the prince, and spend more time with Rodimus.  _

Deadlock’s aft wiggled closer to Rodimus’ helm.

_ I could get some answers, answers I’ve been dying to know. _ His peds shuffled. “I’ll stay.”

Ratchet smirked. “Wise choice, let’s let them rest awhile longer.”

The prince’s aft finally smacked into Rodimus’ helm and the guard grumbed and threw the prince off. 

Optimus stood back, fidgeting with his digits as the mixed bag of mechs started to wake up and piece themselves together. Rewind took the helmless mech’s servo and led him out of the cave, Ratchet finished up a check up on Thunderclash, and Rodimus and Deadlock threw their gear together. 

He turned away and made his way to the exit climbing out as the sun started to rise up, he shook his frame watching sand fall out of his plates. “What do I do now?”

“I have no idea where we’re going.” Rodimus added crawling out of the hole and slapping Optimus’ shoulder.

“Yea, glorious leader, where are we going?” Deadlock added poking Rodimus in the side and making him jump.

“I think he’s got an idea?” Rewind said helping the helmless mech up and out. Then they sat down in the sand and the mech started to draw. Drawing the mountains to the west, and an arrow upwards, then a small seeker-like figure hovered over it. Finally he wrote “‘Find Brainstorm.’” Rewind read aloud, then they all turned to Rodimus.

Rodimus hummed. “I guess we’ll go to the mountains?” He turned to Optimus.

“Mountains.” Optimus shrugged.

“We’re going to the mountains!” Prince Thunderclash grinned scrambling out of the hole. “I’ve never been to the mountains.”

Rodimus’s face twisted. “I think something is up with him?”

The foothills were close, in fact it was around noon that they arrived and agreed to take a break from the hot sun. They found a small clearing in the lush forest, optiming to rest there before hiking up the side of the mountain. 

Ratchet and Rewind mumbled as they inspected the helmless mech’s neck, while Thunderclash stared at Deadlock and Rodimus, sighing a lot. Optimus sat back against a tree, watching Deadlock dig up a worm and fling it at Rodimus, Rodimus gagged and set the worm down before tackling Deadlock.

Optimus laughed watching the two of them.  _ Deadlock acts a lot like a younger Megatron.  _ His spark sank at the thought.  _ He raised Deadlock well, I wonder who the sire is, or was. It’s stupid I shouldn’t be upset with this, I left and- _ He derailed that train of thought and turned away from the two messing around. 

He regretted that faster than he thought. 

Deadlock, the little piece of slag dumped ice cold water on him.

Optimus jumped up, spun around and grabbed the prince before throwing him into the nearby stream. “You aft!”

Rodimus then barreled into him and the two plunged right into the cold water, Optimus gasped, hissing at Rodimus. Rodimus grinned and sank down in the river. Then Deadlock jumped on his back and Optimus fell under once more. He snagged the prince off his back and ground his knuckles down on Deadlock’s helm. 

They resurfaced, Optimus saw Rodimus jumping, he was quick to let go of Deadlock and duck, watching the two collide with a groan. He laughed making his way to the bank and pulling himself out and onto a big rock, he huffed and stretched out. “You two have too much energy.”

Deadlock climbed out next, Optimus helped him out and the prince flopped down next to Optimus, finally Rodimus joined them and they sat in the sun for a while.

“What was Rodimus like when he was little?” Deadlock asked.

“Honestly? He broke my optic and bit my digits a lot.” He shoved Rodimus back into the river, Rodimus yelped and splashed Optimus. “Did you give your creator a few helmaches?”

“I ate soap once, purged all night and Megatron wasn’t happy with that, I also made a habit of having an imaginary friend at times.” Deadlock vented. “I think I was a lonely bitlet, sure I had friends but I always felt lonely.” He shrugged.

“But that’s understandable, being alone in that big castle. If it’s any consolation I found Rodimus more than once snuggling with Thunderclash and devouring the prince’s energon. Rodimus you had a chubby phase.”

Rodimus grumbled and kicked Optimus. “And whose fault was that?”

Optimus shrugged. “I don’t know what you were doing, found you on the streets eating trash, maybe that’s why you couldn’t keep your servos off of anything?” Once more he spotted Ratchet and Rewind watching them, mumbling to themselves.

Thunderclash sighed and stared at Rodimus.

Shortly after they climbed up the mountain, the sun started to set and they agreed the new clearing would be a perfect place to set up camp. Preferring to rest at night then travel during the day, it was easier to see the rocks and help the helmless mech up the mountain. 

Ratchet was inspecting Thunderclash, grumbling and making a few notes. “He’s stable, but I don’t know for how long.” He mentioned and spared a glance at Rodimus.

Rodimus frowned. “How bad is it?”

Ratchet rubbed his helm. “It’s...His systems are in short falling apart, I can repair the damage but only if we can repair what's going on up here.” He tapped his helm.

“What’s with the sighing and the staring?” Rodimus asked.

“No to mention the smiling?” Deadlock added.

Ratchet shrugged. “This is all a mystery to me, I’m hoping that this helmless mech is taking us to the right place.”

“I’m going to go get firewood.” Deadlock mentioned.

“Mind if I join you?” Optimus asked rising to his peds after clearing out a small fire pit.

“Sure, come on.” Deadlock waved him over. 

The forest was breathed around them, almost in recharge, critters scurried around, hunting. Optimus paused and lifted a dried tree trunk, it would burn well. Deadlock stood a bit away, picking up a few sticks, he spotted the trunk in Optimus servos. 

“Want me to take that?”

“I’m sure I can handle it.” Optimus said.

Deadlock pried it out of his servos, easily lifting it over his shoulder. “You know that my carrier is king Megatron, right?”

“Yea, uh so?”

He smirked. “He’s a miner, I’m a miner, a log isn’t going to crush me, but you?” 

Optimus laughed. “Alright, fine, you’ll take the log.”

Deadlock elbowed him in the side. “When my carrier always thought I took after my sire, maybe in looks, but not really strength.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t know who my sire was.” He shrugged, humming a catchy tune that only came from Kaon, something about a mech never returning.

Optimus followed him, grabbing smaller bundles of wood. “So no sire?”

“None.”

“What was it like?”

Deadlock picked up another trunk, tossing it over his shoulder. “Kinda lonely, it was only my carrier and me, and my carrier was pretty protective. But he’s a good carrier, he worries. I hope he’s not losing sleep over Rodimus and I.”

“Heh, I’m sure he’s fine, might get a good talking to. I think we have enough for the night.”

They paused again, hearing rustling and a sharp bark, then huffing, Rodimus, Deadlock and Optimus all grabbed their sabers, waiting with bated breath. It was getting closer, the bushes rustled and Optimus bit his lip.

A turbofox popped out, stilled, stared at them, then his tail wagged.

“Spitfire?” Rodimus and Deadlock said at the same time.

The fox whined and jumped onto their lap, he wiggled and licked Deadlock’s face, then climbed over Optimus’ lap and started licking and crying in Rodimus’. 

“Uh?” He stared at the fox, Spitfire whined and started licking Optimus’ faceplate.

“I found him and trained him.” Rodimus said, scratching the fox’s back.

“Yea I wonder what he’s doing out here?” Deadlock said.

“I don’t know, last I saw him was with your carrier, King Megatron.”

Optimus froze, the air around him felt cold and tense, his whole frame shivered and his spark raced. When did his intake get dry? Spitfire whined and stared up at Optimus, his tail wagging even more and he yapped.

** _CRACK!_ **

* * *

Spitfire jumped out of Optimus’ lap as he spotted Megatron, jumping into Rodimus’. The king glared at the blue helm just before his fist came down on it and Orion fell forward, knocked out with a single hit.

“Carrier!” Deadlock jumped up.

“King Megatron?” Rodimus turned, Spitfire still in his arms.

Orion slumped and Megatron kicked him out of the way, plopping down on the log and pushing Orion to the side, on the ground. He grinned, pulling Deadlock and Rodimus in for a hug. “Where have you two been!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that's what you get Orion.
> 
> Do suspect a mini story soon <3


	16. Creators

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Megatron's arrival Optimus finally gets some painful answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys look, Kyle and Karen are fighting!  
THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING!

“Carrier,” Deadlock wiggled out of his arm and scooted away. “You didn’t have to do that.” He glanced down at Orion.

Megatron glared at the still frame, listening it wheeze, his spark stilled.  _ I didn’t kill him, good. _ “I have every right to tear through that mech with my bare servos.” He hissed.

“He’s still alive.” The famous medic Ratchet snapped and vented. “Not like you would care.” He snapped.

The king didn’t bother with the medic, knowing very well how stubborn the Iaconian mech was. Instead he opted to stare at the red and blue frame, mentally dissecting him piece by piece. He saw the gaudy dress pieces that Iacon glady forced on everyone. “Rodimus, who is this mech?”

Rodimus didn’t fight Megatron’s hold. “He’s the captain of the guard, Optimus. He raised me.”

He hummed. “Optimus, what a stupid name.”  _ He always liked named that ended with -imus, that explains Rodimus’ own name.  _ He turned towards Rodimus. “He raised you?”

Rodimus nodded. “Yea, he took me in when I was on the streets.”

Spitfire whined and licked Orion’s helm, barking right into Orion’s finals. The mech groaned and rubbed his helm, optics resetting. “What happened?”

Megatron slammed his ped down on Orion’s chassis, the whole mech fell once again.

“Carrier!”

“King Megatron?!”

Megatron let go of Rodimus and pulled his ped off of Orion, kneeling down, and grabbing one of Orion’s sensitive finals. Their optics met, Orion stared at him with a look of fear then with anger, Megatron only offered cold unblinking optics back. “You listen to me,” He seethed out. “This isn’t about you, or me, so when this is all over, you’re going to go back to Iacon, get a metal or something and suffer alone from your own mistakes.”

Orions slapped Megatron’s servo and pulled himself up, rising to his peds, he was the same height as Megatron. “I don’t take orders from you. So don’t act like you have any say over anything I do.”

Spitfire whined and ran behind Rodimus. 

Megatron stared at his old lover, the mech he grew up with, who he trained with, studied, mined their own tunnel, and the mech he thought he could trust Kaon with. His spark soured and he stole himself. “Stay the hell away from me, and my creation.”

Orion jabbed his digit on Megatron’s chassis. “I’m staying here until I see this through.”

“It's the first time you saw anything through.” 

Orion’s engine rumbled and he grabbed the handle of his saber.

“Carrier?” Deadlock cut the tension, stalling Orion’s anger. 

His son, his only son stood slightly shaking, blade drawn. Megatron felt the walls around him sway and his spark ached. He cleared his intake. “I’m sorry, I was-” He grumbled. “I’m so sorry,” He rushed over and pulled Deadlock in a hug. “I thought I lost you.”

* * *

Optimus stood back as Megatron held onto his creation, his spark ached, and he grazed the bond, it was still and cold. Softly he stepped back, sitting next to Thunderclash, feeling his rage deep down.  _ Megatron decided to choose someone else, he moved on from me, and I’ve spent all these years sulking? _

Megatron cleared his intake again, and sniffled. “I’m sorry, what’s going on?”

Deadlock sat back down. “We went to the ball and we found the prince, Thunderclash was in a-”

“State of shock, is the best way I would put it.” Ratchet added in.

“And with the historian, Rewind, we found out that he’s been-”

“Shadow played, he’s not himself.” Rewind added.

“So we’ve kidnapped the prince and went to the Northern Travel’s ruins and found the helmless mech.” Deadlock gestured to the helmless mech, earning a double take from the king. “So we’re trying to track down a mech who can fix Thunderclash.” Deadlock finished.

Megatron sat down, glanced over at the prince, then the rag tag team. “Why does this matter?”

Rodimus curled up on himself, pulling his knees in.

Optimus ground his denta, forcing the rage in his spark to shut up, and he crossed over Megatron, ignoring the king’s glare and he pulled Rodimus into a hug. He had known for the longest time what was going on, he allowed it to happen, but when he heard that the prince was to be bonded off, he tried to seperate the two of them.  _ I thought it would be better for Rodimus to hate me then the mech he loved.  _ Rodimus leaned into the hug. “Rodimus was assigned to the prince, and-” He vented, rubbing Rodimus’ shoulders.

Megatron nodded, there was cold understanding. “I knew that look when I first met him, a broken spark. Who was the mech the prince was to be bonded to?”

“King Overlord.”

The king’s engine roared to life and pure fury graced his face, Optimus felt his spark quiver with fear and excitement. “You mean Overlord the barbarian?”

“Who?” Ratchet, Rewind, and Rodimus leaned in.

Megatron snarled and pulled Deadlock close. “Overlord is a monster, when I first met him he told me that he was a king from over the western mountains. He offered a relationship between our kingdoms, a bonding of rules. He played the part well, he told me tales of glory and of his home, his strange culture and traditions, and over time I trusted him.”

Optimus’s anger was reinginted once more.

_ _ Megatron’s servo tightened around Deadlock and his face darkened. “I found his lies and promptly exiled him and his mecha from Kaon. I told him I would kill him if he stepped on Kaon land again.”

Optimus pulled back, still holding Rodimus to his side, staring down at his peds, his ex-lover a few steps from him.  _ Overlord is Deadlock’s sire? _

* * *

The following morning the group woke up and stretched the helmless mech took point with Rewind. They were about to leave that is until Orion spotted something. “Someone is watching us.” He looked up into the clouds as a small flier looped and slipped away. 

“I’m not sure what he is, or who, but he’s got seeker in him.” Megatron commented and made his way to the librarian. “Please lead the way.”

The helmless mech climbed up the side of the mountain, Deadlock and Megatron, then Ratchet with Thunderclash, and finally Rodimus and Orion. He made sure that Orion would stay far away from them, but it did hurt to have Rodimus by their side.  _ As much as I hate- as I dislike Orion, he did raise Rodimus. I should’ve noticed it, with how he acts, how he toys with Deadlock, from the mannerisms to how he holds himself, he’s the spitting image of Orion… Will he go back to Iacon when this is over? _

“Carrier?” Deadlock rested a servo on his shoulder.

Megatron vented. “Could you answer something?”

“Sure.”

“How deep is Rodimus’ love for Thunderclash go?”

Deadlock sputtered and paused. “I...I don’t know.”

Megatron nodded and pressed on, climbing past the boulder and into another tree line, he watched and waited as Thunderclash and Ratchet pushed up the mountain side. Thunderclash vented, a dopey smile on him and he stared at the last two mechs. Deadlock offered a servo towards the medic, saying a joke and getting the grumpy medic to chuckle.  _ Will Deadlock stay in Kaon? _

It was a petty concept, but one that his spark clung to, he knew it was a foolish idea that Rodimus would stay, but Deadlock? His only creation could leave and he would once more be left alone. The king was torn in two, this loosely pieced together family could slip through his servos in a few spark beats. Rodimus cared too much for the prince, he wasn’t going to leave Thunderclash’s side, at least not until he was better. Then there was Deadlock, as dopey as his sire, all flustered and gidde, he clearly cared for the medic and Megatron wasn’t going to get in his only son’s way.

That left him alone, with all of Kaon.

_ It’s not the first time. _

_ _ He watched as Orion and Rodimus climbed past the boulder.

* * *

They had stopped by a waterfall, Optimusdipped his peds in it, enjoying the numbing feeling on his sore peds. He laid back on the sand, watching the clouds, the small flier was still circling, watching them. “He’s getting closer.”

Rodimus sat next to him, dipping his own peds. “Yea.”

Prince Deadlock flopped next to them, keeping his peds far from the cool water, tucking his knees in. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Rodimus greeted him. “You alright there?”

Deadlock shook his helm. 

“Yea, same here.” Rodimus mentioned.

Optimus groaned. “He told me to stay away from you, Deadlock.”

“Well I’m here now.” He huffed, as stubborn as his carrier. “And frag it I don’t care about the slag between the two of you, I want to see Rodimus.”

He shut his optics. “Well let me know if he’s coming here.” He grumbled, his spark turned and twisted.  _ Overlord left Megatron with a bastard creation. _ Optimus seethed, he wanted to stomp over there and yell at the king, tear open the bond and flood Megatron with his anger. His engine growled.

Deadlock paused and grunted. “Fine, sense both of you are being brats.” He stomped off.

Rodimus watched his best friend stalk off, he shot Optimus a hard glare, something Megatron taught him. “Whatever happened in the past happened, why can’t either of you get over it?” He snapped following Deadlock.

Optimus grunted and sat up, pulling his peds and shaking them off. He spotted the king under a shady tree, their optics met. He flung the king’s warning to the side and cut across the clearing and towered over Megatron. “Happy that your behavior is upsetting your creation?”

Megatron showed no reaction. “He won’t get his spark hurt.”

“Everything was fine before you showed up.”

The king reset his optics and rose to his peds. “Oh, so I shouldn’t learn from my mistakes and not go after my only son when he disappears?”

“He doesn’t need someone hovering over him like a worried helicopter.” Optimus snapped back. 

“What do you want Orion?”

“I want Deadlock’s sire’s helm.”

Megatron paused. “What are you saying?”

“It’s pretty easy to get into a royal’s panels,” Optimus pressed. “Who’s Deadlock’s sire?”

“That doesn’t matter to you, you gave up that right when you left.” Megatron shut him down, sharply turning away from Optimus. “Give up while you’re ahead.”

Optimus glared at the silver mech, spark burning. 

* * *

“Rodimus?” Megatron called the guard and found him tossing a stick for Spitfire to dash after. “I-I know that things have been tough an-”

“You should apologize to Deadlock, he’s never seen you like this.” Rodimus spat out.

Spitfire ran back, stick in his jaws.

“I know, but, I feel that I should talk to you first.” Spitfire gave him the stick and he threw it for the turbo fox. “I-I’m glad that Or-Optimus trained you, I know it seems that I hate the mech, and I do, but-no I don’t really hate him- I hate what he did an-” He groaned. “It’s a whole mess, and I don’t know how I would explain it to Deadlock, or you. I just-” He rested his servo on Rodimus’ shoulder. “I’m glad that Optimus trained you, and I know you’re a better mech then him.”

Rodimus frowned. “You’re never going to tell us why you two hate each other.” He pushed Megatron’s servo off. “Besides it doesn’t matter to me, I’m no one.” He took the stick from Spitfire and tossed it.

Megatron’s shoulder slumped, he was at a loss of words. “I wanted to ask you something, about Ratchet and my son.”

“Deadlock has a budding crush on the medic, you’re not breaking that up.” Rodimus snapped.

“Is he going to hurt Deadlock?”

Rodimus froze and turned towards him, the first time since the conversation started. “Ratchet wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Thank you.” He swallowed. “I wanted to know, when Thunderclash is better, what do you plan to do?”

Rodimus hummed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll cross the mountains, leave this whole place behind?” 

“Oh,”

The words hurt, the idea of Rodimus leaving hurt, maybe he would never see the young mech again? That scared him more than anything, his family was slipping.

* * *

The sun started to set and a makeshift camp was made, Ratchet was about to check on Thunderclash but he waited on the fire. Rodimus and prince Deadlock had gone out and gathered wood, they came back, quiet as every. 

Optimus cleared a spot for the fire and took the wood, making a miniature tent and tossing dried grass in. He took out two stones and flicked them, a small spark flew off but didn’t catch.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Megatron said.

He glared at the king, “Like you know how to light a fire.”

“I don’t use rocks.”

“‘I don’t use rocks’ I’m going to shove these rocks up your aft.”

Megatron rolled his optics and kicked Optimus aside, pulling out his own stones. “I use flint.” He struck the stones and a bigger spark flew off but didn’t catch.

“Oh yes, because flint always works.” Optimus raised his voice. “King Megatron knows everything doesn’t he.”

“At least I don’t try to start a fire with two stone and one that’s too jagged to even work.”   
Optimus shoved Megatron aside. “Sure, at least I get a spark.”

“Oh wow, everyone Orion can get a spark, amazing, he knows what’s best for everyone even if he hasn’t gotten a fire going.” Megatron tossed his servos up.

“I’m doing what I think is right.”

“That’s fragging slag and you know it!”

The fire burst to life. “THERE THE FIRE IS LIT!” Ratchet snapped, slapping his lighter closed.

But it wasn’t about the fire, and Optimus felt his spark bubble up with anger. “I left because I’m a peasant, I left to protect Kaon.”

The camp died, wide optics stared at the two of them, tensions cracked in the air.

Megatron ground his denta. “You left with a note.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“You owe me everything.” He snarled. 

“I didn’t want to leave!” Optius spat out.

“But you did anyhow! Because Orion always has to suffer in silence, because it was  _ sooo  _ bad in Kaon, and it was so bad with me.”

Optimus froze, his shoulders slumping. “I was never bad with you.”

“But you still left. You left without saying goodbye.” Megatron vented, then hissed. “You abandoned me, when I needed you most.”

“I left and I made sure you would be fine.”

“No! You left when I needed you most, when your family needed you!”

“My,” He stumbled. “Family?” He glanced around and shivered. “What-Overlord- you said-”

“Deadlock is our- he’s” Megatron shut his intake.

“Mine?”

Megatron yelled. “Yes you fragging moron! And if you stayed a few more cycles you would’ve known that, but no!” He snapped his intake shut and turned towards Deadlock. “You’re sire’s so fagging stupid.” Before he turned back to Optimus. 

“How is he mine?”

“You were fraggin there, you know how this happened!”

“This doesn’t make sense.” Orion felt his processor reeling back from the information.

“There’s a medical expert right there that can explain how twins are made.”

Orion froze, his spark stilled. “Twins?”

The anger melted away from the king’s frame, instead his shoulders slumped and his helm hung. Orion felt his spark in his throat, constricting and aching, he stared at the king, his old lover. Megatron looked so torn up, and the wounds had never healed. 

“Did-did I have a twin?” Deadlock pressed out.

* * *

Megatron’s intake was tight, very tight, this wasn’t how he wanted to tell Deadlock, or even Orion. He thought of a million ways to tell his remaining child what happened, every solar cycle on Deadlock’s creation day he thought he would tell him. He thought it would be best if it was just them, and they would go to the nursery. Megatron would sit Deadlock down and pull out the records, the old photos, the plush red and blue bunnies that they both got.

But not like this, never like this.

He slumped and fell down, cupping his helm. “You had a twin,” His throat was closing up and his optics started to leak. “A brother, the two of you would cause so much trouble. This was after I turned down every suitor and opted to lead alone. I tried to separate the two of you, let you learn a bit more independence and finding too many energon cookies missing was the final straw.” He rubbed the back of his helm. “One night I hear glass break, and your twin, he pulled on the bond. I came running but it was too late.” He shuttered. “He pulled on your bond too, and I held you that night, ordering all of Kaon to search, but-” Megatron shook his heavy helm, hot tears rolled down his face plate. “I felt the bond break, you felt it break, you twin died that night.”

“Megatron,” Orion mumbled. “I-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, hit me with your theories.


	17. Cousins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group finally meets the strange flier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm stress writing, being that I'm not going college work now, screw it. It's my last semester and I'm going to bullshit the hell out of it.   
Downside: I'm going to procrastinate   
Upside: Y'all get Dratchet fluff then a sharp turn into pain for Thunderrod

It felt like he was drowning, his helm was under the waves, crashing and throwing him around. His peds pulled close, listening to the fire crack as the voices faded to the back of his helm. It was fast, really fast, Deadlock twisted away from the group, stomping into the darkness rushing up the mountain.

“Deadlock!” His carrier yelled.

He’d always been faster, he dashed away into the inky darkness, feeling bushes crunch under him. Deadlock only stumbled to a stop and fell, his whole frame rattled. He tried to piece it together, all of it. His carrier was the king of Kaon, his sire was a guard, and he left. The ice around his spark turned inwards. “I have a twin...I had a twin.” Hot tears pooled to the sides of his vision, Deadlock stalled, his claws digging into the bark of a tree and he curled down, holding himself.

“Twinkle toes?” A gruff voice called out.

Deadlock stilled, intake tight as a pair blue optics peeked out from the trees, Ratchet, the medic. Warm servos rested on his shoulder. Deadlock shivered, hugging himself. “I wasn’t alone.”

Ratchet vented and rubbed his back struts. “It appears you weren’t.”

“Why didn’t my carrier tell me?”

The medic grumbled. “From what I can tell, he was too damaged to tell you, he was so torn up after losing your sire then your... twin.”

“It makes sense, in a way, why he’s always been so protective of me, he didn’t want to lose me.” He shuttered and licked his lips. “But it’s always been so empty, and I’ve been so alone.”

“Kid there’s, I-” He huffed. “I think you were a split spark, are you hot or cold?”

“Huh?”

“Does your engine run hot or cold?”

“Cold, I’ve always been cold.”

Ratchet nodded. “It’s not too common with split spark twins, but one half runs cold the other runs hot.” He shook his helm. “Come here twinkle toes.” He pulled Deadlock into a hug. 

Deadlock leaned into Ratchet’s hug. 

* * *

Rodimus stared at the two of them, glad that Ratchet ran after Deadlock, that left him with an upset king, a guilt ridden Optimus, Rewind and a helmless mech, and Thunderclash. He rubbed his helm, feeling a processor ache coming on. “Alright,” He broke the silence, glaring at Optimus and Megatron. “Sit down, and just,” He hissed. “Just shut up.”

Megatron grumbled and turned to the forest, where Deadlock disappeared. 

“Ratchet’s with him.” Rodimus snapped at the king.

The silver mech huffed and fell close to the fire. 

Optimus waited a moment and sat, back to the fire.

“Let’s try to get some rest and hope this ends soon.” Rodimus pulled out his rations, sipping the cube. Watching the fire flicker and dance, wanting nothing more than to end this night. Spitfire sat by his side, nudging his muzzle under Rodimus’ arm, asking for attention. “Needy thing.” He whispered and scratched the fox’s helm, his engine slowing and his frame started to relax.

Optimus groaned. “I know this won’t fix anything, but I’m sorry.”

The king stiffened then vented. “Thank you, just…” He paused. “I don’t know what to say.”

Thunderclash, who had sat very quiet and very still through the whole argument, reset his optics and vented, it was light and fluffy. Rodimus rolled his optics and stared at the prince, finding that Thunderclash was staring at him, a faint smile tugging on his intake.

Rodimus shuttered his optics, watching the fire burn through the logs.  _ A guard and their prince, sounds familiar. If. _ He shot a glance at the buttery rainbow prince who used to steal his spark every night cycle.  _ Would I have done the same? Iacon would’ve hadbe beheaded if a smaller frame ran through the royal halls wearing my paint and a crown. Or something so much worse could happen. _ His processor side down that slope and his tanks turned.  _ I would be killed, but the kindling? _ His intake tightened. “Ugh- can’t this night end already?” Rodimus laid down, Spitfire by his side. 

* * *

The moonlight illuminated the surroundings, the trees, bushes, boulders, even the stream. It was still and quiet, besides the gentle breeze that rocked the greenery.

He was up wind, so that pesky turbo fox wouldn’t scent him, or at least wouldn’t smell anything recent. Instead he stuck to the skies most nights, blending in with the clouds, but also flying high enough that it would be hard to spot him. 

This group was strange, a mixed group of mechs, some were from Iacon, others from Kaon. But to him none of them mattered, well only one mattered to him, if he could he would throw the rest off his mountain.

Carefully he crept forward, moving alongside the river, the rolling water muffeling his steps. He only paused as two frames came into view, the medic and one of the Kaonites. He pressed down and watched as the two were close, far too close, in fact it seemed like the Kaonite was kissing the medic. 

He stilled his spark, feeling the weight of his blaster, carefully stepping over the bushes and creeping behind the Kaonite. He wasn’t a fool, all he wanted was his cousin back. The barrel rested against the Kaonite’s helm, who froze and lifted his servos up. 

* * *

Spitfire sat up, snarling, plates up. Rodimus didn’t hesitate, grabbed his saber, Optimus and Megatron did the same. 

Thunderclash vented.

He stared out into the forest, hearing three sets of peds, Ratchet was first, then Deadlock, who didn’t have his saber, and his servos were up, and another mech. He was a flier, he had seeker in him for sure, but something else was there, a possible Vosian outcast? 

“Visitors don’t move.” The mech snapped, his voice was off, light, then heavy, like his hasn’t spoken in cycles. “I just need something.” His wings twitched, puffing outward in the same manner as a sparkling or Spitfire. 

“What do you want?” Rodimus asked.

Thunderclash sighed again.

“Them.” He pointed to Ratchet, then to the helmless mech. “I need them.” His servo was shaking, and his wings kept twitching. 

“But we need them.” Rewind said, still in the helmless mech’s lap, his servos wrapped around one of the mech’s arms. “We need his help, we’re looking for a neurosurgeon.”

The jet waited. “Who are you?” He snapped.

“I’m Iacon’s librarian, Rewind. Why?”

“Who sent you?”

“We’re out here being that we need to get him help.” Rodimus pointed to Thunderclash. “No one sent us.”

Slowly his weapon lowered, and he stared at the helmless mech. “Visitors play nice, or I’ll roll your corpses off my mountain” He turned. “Follow me, all of you.”

“I’d like to know who kept me at gunpoint?” Deadlock pressed, as the jet tossed his sword back.

“Brainstorm the great, now let's go.” He snapped and climbed up the mountain side.

* * *

Brainstorm pressed up the mountain side, taking an easy pass, one without traps, but there was one boulder at the top that he could push to the side. He paused glancing back at the tired group, then pushed aside the tree branches and into his tiny cave. “Visitors stay out, medic comes, and he comes.”

“I have a name.” The medic snapped.

“I don’t care.” He snapped, stomping forward and grabbed the helmless’ servo. “Inside now.” Brainstorm pushed the medic in and dropped the branches.

The medic stumbled and glared draggers at him. “The frag is wrong with you?”

Brainstorm glared back, helping Chromedome’s frame sit, he then towered over the medic, turbines rumbling. “I need him.”

“Why?”

“He’s all I have left.” Brainstorm shoved past the medic and to the very back of his cave, where he kept his berth and energon, but the most importantly Chromedome. With soft digits he lifted the helm and turned back to the medic. “I need my cousin back.”

He took the helm with wide optics. “What the frag?”

* * *

The sun rose and they waited outside, Deadlock was the closest to the cave entrance, listening, waiting. Spitfire was at the princes side. Megatron stood close, arms folded. Optimus was watching the horizon with Rewind.

“Iacon’s burning.” Optimus said.

“What?” Rodimus scaled a boulder and stared off at the glimmering city, seeing long black and white trails of smoke. His spark sank.

“It’s Overlord isn’t it?” Megatron hissed. “I should’ve killed him before he fled Kaon.”

They watched as another tail of smoke rose up into the clouds, none of them were from the palace. 

“This is insane!” Ratchet yelled from the cave.

Deadlock flung off the branches, revealing a strange sight, Ratchet was holding a dusty helm in his own servos, while Brainstorm held his own helm slightly above his shoulders.

“What the frag?” Rewind was recording.

Brainstorm glared and slapped his helm back into place. “It’s a thing, the grounders in my line often had this trait, we could remove our helms for a short time, but our frames would shut down after a certain point. You reactivated Chromedome and a good part of his processor is still attached to his frame, that’s how he led you here.”

Ratchet gaped and grunted, his digits plugging in wires. “So, you were part of the Northern Travelers?”

Brainstorm sunk down, his frame shivered. “Yes, our whole family joined the travels, my carrier was a Vosian nobel and my sire was a grounder, the rest of my sire’s family was part of the travelers. We hid there being that every one of us were genetically different, and we each feared what would happen if we were found out.”

“Genetically different in what way?” Ratchet pressed, not looking up from Chromedome’s neck.

He rubbed his helm. “My processor is faster than it should be, any math problem is done in moments, physics, chemistry,” He shrugged. “Upside I can do taxes in a few moments, downside is I need someone to talk to.”

“What about him?” Ratchet asked, snapping the last wire into place, then jumping back as Chromedome’s engine roared and his visor flickered back to life.

Chromedome coughed, engine backfired and he groaned. “Energon,”

Brainstorm was fast fetching a cube. “Here Domey,”

Chromedome jerked his servo, but stopped, long thin needles stabbed through the arm rests. With a hiss he retracted them and took the cube. The orange and white mech finished his cube and gasped, resetting his visor. “Brainstorm?”

The jet rushed forward, hugging Chromedome. “The next time you’re trapped don’t behead yourself!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, Brainstorm and Chromedome are cousins!   
Their family tree isn't a tree, they're like a family buffet where you don't know any dishes but they use the same seasoning.  
You have shuttle, grounder, racer, seeker, even triple changers, that's their family.  
Shame they're all dead.


	18. As The World Falls Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus gets it all, answers and comfort from rainbow boyfriend.

“I’m sorry!”

“It was stupid!” Brainstorm snapped pulling away from his cousin. “So very stupid!”

“I knew you would escape!”

Brainstorm shook him. “Yea but just saying ‘here hold this’ and throwing your disembodied helm at me like it was energon goodies as sooo STUPID!” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t want to die?!”

“You’re an aft!” Brainstorm yelled and punched his tire shoulder. “So stupid, very very stupid and I love you!” He hugged Chromedome again, way too tightly.

“Stormy, please, I need air?”

He didn’t let go. “If you do that to me again, I will become the last of our family tree.” He whispered and let go, how wings flapping. “So…”

Chromedome grunted and rubbed his helm, he took in the strange sight, Brainstorm, one medic, a silver miner frame, two racers, a walking rainbow and what looked like a royal guard. Then there was a small servo that slipped into his own. Chromedome knew this servo, he trusted it, he stared down at the minibot, the one that led him this whole time. He smiled down at the minibot, red light blinking. 

“So,” The purple and blue racer stepped forward, his helm final was dented inward, but he looked so very familiar. “You’re a neurosurgeon?” 

He nodded, his processor pulled at old memories, the curves of his helm, his bright blue optics, the button nose. Chromedome knew this mech. “Yes, what do you need?”

“Uh, Thunderclash?” He called.

The colorful mech stumbled forward, his peds weren’t right, his timing was off, simple fix, but the glazed dead look in his optics, how he only seemed to vent. 

Chromedome’s tanks turned and he rose to his peds, lifting the golden face upwards and looking into those dead optics. “This is bad, whoever did this wanted this mech to suffer. I’ll need your help,” He turned to the medic.

“Ratchet.”

“Ratchet, once we have his physical state stabilized then I can start repairing the damage. Stormy, we’re stealing every workbench you have.”

* * *

Chromedome sat over Thunderclash’s opened helm, a puff of white smoke greeted the neurosurgeon. They laid Thunderclash helm down on the tables, allowing Chromedome better access to the damage. Ratchet buzzed around, fixing smaller issues while also monitoring the prince’s vitals.

Spitfire whined and nudged Rodimus’ servo, he jumped and looked down at the small fox. He knelt next to the purple turbo fox, the only constant in Rodimus’ life. “Hey boy, what’s wrong?”

The fox shook and licked his lips.

“Yea, I know, I should go. They don’t need me anymore.” His shoulders sunk, Thunderclash was getting repaired, Megatron was with Deadlock. He did his job, now what?

“Is there anyone here who was close to him?” Chromedome asked Ratchet, who stared at Rodimus, Chromedome turned to Rodimus. “How close were you two?”

“They were lovers.” Ratchet mumbled.

“Ah, that explains a lot, come here…”

“Rodimus.” 

“Rodimus,” Chromedome waved him over. “I need your help.”

He sat, Spitfire jumped up into his lap and cuddled his chassis, Rodimus tapped his digits on the work benches and chewed his lip plate. “What do you need?”

“What was he like before?”

Rodimus vented, staring at the still frame in front of him, spark tightening. “He… He was goofy, and sweet. He never raised his voice unless he was scared. I remember this one time we snuck out of the castle and went to the park, he brought a bag of coins for us to fling in the fountain and each one he told me to make a wish. I wished for a new saber, some polish, maybe for Optimus to stop almost catching us. I asked him what he wished for, he said ‘I wished for only a few things, 1. That night wouldn’t end 2. That he could hold my servo when we went home 3. More coins.’” Rodimus laughed. “Well he got to hold my servo, so 1⁄3 wishes came true.” Rodimus slumped and stared at the big blue servo. “It was forbidden, the two of us, but I didn’t care, I don’t think he did either. He used to hold me when we recharged, cupping my helm and kissing me for what felt like the whole night cycle.” He slid his servo into Thunderclash’s, wishing it would give him a comforting squeeze. It didn’t, and Rodimus slumped, he felt his optics start to water.

“Kid, you can take a break.”

He rested his helm on the bench. “I needed to recharge and Overlord took him from me.” His throat tightened. “It just took a few moments and Thunderclash was gone.”

Chromedome patted his back. “It’s not your fault.”

He sobbed and clung to the servo.

“He still loves you. He’s been trapped and the world around him has been fighting his own frame to escape. Overlord programmed his own frame to be a prison, each time he fought his frame would take on damage.” Chromedome glanced down at the blue prince, his spark softening. “He’s been doing this all for you, he even tried to remember your name no matter how much damage he would take.”

Rodimus squeezed the servo. “I left him.”

“He hit you kid.” Ratchet added in. “You had every right to leave, that wasn’t Thunderclash.”

“But he needed my help.”

“Thunderclash wouldn’t have wanted you in that situation.” Ratchet pulled Rodimus into a half hug. “He cares so much about you, but he wouldn’t have ever wanted you to put yourself in harm's way for him.”

“But…” He shuttered and stared at the blue servo. 

Chromedome retracted his needles, Rodimus shivered, the orange and white mech vented. “He’ll need time to reset, but he’s fixed, physically, and mentally.”

Ratchet hummed as he finished up the system checks, he nodded and left.

Rodimus didn’t move much, he watched the blue digits, seeing them sit perfectly still, his spark ached and he felt his intake tighten again.

“So,” Chromedome cut through the quiet. “I suppose I have a lot to tell you.”

He glanced away from the prince. “What?”

The mech laughed and rubbed the back of his helm. “You might not remember me, you were way too young to anyhow.”

Rodimus sat up, his servo still holding Thunderclash’s. “What are you saying?”

“I, um, I helped you out when you couldn’t even stand.”

The blue digits curled inward.

* * *

Trepan was laughing, he rarely laughed like this, it was light and fluffy, and it tendered to echo back into the tent. Chromedome glanced up from his datapad, spotting his mentor at the front of the tent, Trepan was like him a neurosurgeon, and a good one. No one else had the needles in his family, or well they cut them off. But that didn’t mean Trepan was a good mech, he was a fine teacher, but a horrible mech.

Chromedome set his datapad down, watching the exchanges between Trepan and this massive hulking figure of a mech. 

“Been awhile, I thought you forgot about me.” Trepan teased.

The mech stared down at him, unblinking red optics. “I need your services again.” He pulled out a rather large sack and dropped it between their peds, it sounded like it hurt. The sack didn’t stop wiggling, and a faint noise filled the tent. Chromedome felt his spark drop as the sack was torn open and a very small bitlet helm popped out. It was crying.

At this point Chromedome got to his peds and stood slightly behind his mentor.

The mech frowned and slammed his ped down next to the sobbing bitlet, scaring the poor thing, it started to shake but shut it’s intake staring up at the dark blue mech. “Make this thing loyal to me, it must see me as a sire figure.”

Trepan hummed and leaned down, poking the scared bitlet. “He’s hardly developed, he doesn’t know a lot, on the up side it’ll be easy to manipulate him, but you’ll need to bring him back every now and then to correct his processor.”

Chromedome was glad he didn’t have a proper intake, he would’ve purged. “Trepan?” He stepped forward, and knelt down, gently picking up the small frame. He was very young, warm, but he was covered in dents, scratches, and his optics were dull. “If I may, could I perform this one?” He held the bitlet close to his chassis. 

Trepan hummed, a greedy glint in his optics. “Of course, I’ll let you handle it, you’re coming into your own. That’ll allow me to catch up with an old friend.” His small servos wrapped around the massive blue forearm.

He nodded and took the bitlet back into the tent, his spark racing. Gently he pulled the shaking bitlet from the sack and tossed it aside. Chromedome did a quick glance over, the mechling was bright orange and yellow, but his natural paint would get darker over time, he was a speed frame, but a hybrid of some sort. Whatever left those dents would’ve killed anyone else. He cooed the poor thing and pulled him close. Chromedome snagged some of his rations and poured it into a smaller more manageable cube for the bit.

The bit stared at him but took the cube, sipping it slowly.

Chromedome waited, forming a plan in his helm, knowing that if this bit stayed with that monster out there, the bit would die. He vented softly and hugged the bit, his digits pressed against the bitlet’s neck. With a faint pop and gasp from the mechling his needles impaled the bitlet. He scrubbed through the bitlet’s processor, picking up a few details, the bit was only a few orns old, and he was starting to walk. He has a twin, and a carrier but it seems his sire’s bond is cold, but not dead. The other two bonds were broken when he was taken away, that must’ve been painful for him. 

This left a clear plain in Chromedome’s helm, one that he started to push into the bitlet’s processor. The bitlet is going to wait until they’ve reached another kingdom, he’ll act perfectly loyal to that mech, but when a chance comes up, he’ll run. As an extra measure the bitlet learned that his peds would do some damage. If he had to, he would kick an optic or two out.

Chromedome retracted his needles and placed a welding patch on the mechling’s neck. The bitlet stared up at him, a new fire in his optics. 

Chromecome leaned back, spotting the old scars on Rodimus’ neck. “It looks like you escaped.” His spark warmed.

Rodimus reset his optics. “You saved me?”

“Well...I was hoping you would get back to one of your creators,” He shrugged.

The mech stared out of the cave, listening to the conversations between his party. “I think I did, I grew up on Iaconain streets, and the prince found me, then he found me...And he raised me. But then-” He paused his face twisting up. 

“I’ll give you some time to figure it out.” Chromedome patted his shoulder and left Rodimus to think it through. If he could go back in time and do one thing to change it all, he would’ve put Overlord’s helm on a pike.

* * *

The ballroom was full, elegant mechs danced in circles, covered helm to ped in strange outfits. Everyone wore masks, some were emotions, grinning or sobbing, others were animistic depictions, growling, howling. He spun again, his servos in another, their peds would step on each other, Thunderclash would wince in pain. He turned to his partner, his spark sinking, there was no mech there, an oily animal, red optics, daggers for fangs. The beast's claws dug into Thunderclash’s servos, he gasped and pulled away from the beast.

The claws slid free and he stumbled back, staring up at the beast, it froze the oily texture turned to stone, the beast turned into a gargoyle. 

Thunderclash crawled back, his spark racing, slowly he pulled himself to his peds. He grabbed his face, finding no mask, pleased he watched the spinning figures around him. Thunderclash weeded through the elegant frames, searching for an exit, a door, a window, anything. 

Peds clattered and the music fades and started to blur together as he ran, searching for an exit. But at every turn he only saw masks, so many masks. He screamed falling onto someone. Thunderclash shivered he needed to escape, he wanted to get out of this!

He turned up at the mech that caught him, his spark finally stilling at the statue, he knew this frame, and for the first time and a very long time Thunderclash felt safe. “Rodimus?” he stood up, and cupped the mask less statue, his optics watering. “Rodimus.” It felt so good to say his name. Thunderclash leaned down and pressed his helm against the chassis, optics shutting. “You were right, this whole time you were right. I shouldn’t have doubted you sweet spark.” He mumbled.

The stone statue softened and servos slid up to his helm, holding him up. Thunderclash peered into the wild deep blue optics. “I’m here.”

Thunderclash gasped, his helm hurt, his frame ached, and the world spun, he was greeted with an old lantern and rocks. He groaned and rubbed his helm, sitting up, until a warm servo rested on his chassis. 

“You should stay still.”

He couldn’t stop himself, his servo wrapped over the bright blue one. “Rodimus?”

His optics softened. “Yea I’m here, and I told you to relax.”

All Thunderclash could do was smile, it was one sided and some of his denta stuck out. “I’m sorry, I’m just so happy.”

Rodimus laughed, and sat down next to him, pulling his peds up. “So...You’re back.”

He nodded trying his hardest to remember every twist and turn in Rodimus’ frame, the new paint colors, the freckles that shined under his optics, the bent final- “Oh, Roddy, why didn’t you get it fixed?”

Rodimus flinched, and curled up on himself. “I didn’t want to forget my mistake, that I shouldn’t fall for anyone again.”

Thunderclash felt the tears well up behind his optics. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, I couldn’t do anything.”

“I should’ve known something was wrong after that, I should’ve stayed.”

“No, no, please don’t blame yourself, I’m glad that you left, you made sure you were safe.”

“But if I stayed then I would’ve helped you out sooner and maybe Overlord wouldn’t have…”

“He didn’t, I was forced to say that.” He sat up, and groaned clutching his center, he pulled Rodimus into a half hug. “We didn’t interface, the programming made me say it to spite you.”

Rodimus shivered and clung to him. “I missed this so much.”

His engine rumbled and Thunderclash kissed the bent final. “I missed this too.”

The speed frame stared out, he chewed his lip plates and fidgeted. “Hey, Thunders?”

“Yea?”

“Can I tell you something?”

He snorted. “You can tell me anything.”

Rodimus buried his helm into Thunderclash’s neck. “I think I’m the lost heir of Kaon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea Rodimus and Deadlock are twins. Some of y'all saw this coming miles away and I'm pretty happy about that!  
Chromedome gave Rodimus the tools to survive, shortly after Overlord stole Rodimus away he went to the Northern Travelers, where Chromedome was, Chromedome did what he did, Rodimus acted perfectly towards Overlord, Overlord took Rodimus to Iacon, and there Rodimus felt his sire and escaped via kicking Overlord's optic in and hiding away. That is until Thunderclash found them, then Optimus found them (got his optic kicked out) and well yea. I just want y'all to have the mental image of that first night Optimus having bitty Roddy curled up next to his chassis and their bond somewhat reforming but never being opened. 
> 
> Other notes  
Clash is back, here to support and love Roddy  
The rest of the Kaon royal family (Megatron, Optimus and Deadlock) don't know what Rodimus knows now.  
Brainstorm is happy that he's not alone anymore.
> 
> Alright last chapter or almost last chapter? I'm not sure 3 chapters are left at most, 1 at least, but expect a little bit of after all this hell there's some fluff between Roddy and Clash.


	19. Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some fluffy moments before they return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some fun chats about murder!  
Also heads up there's some idk robot eating? I have no idea, in short Rodimus and Thunderclash 'eat' a rabbit.

The sun climbed slowly, the warm beams spread through the cavern’s entrance, the cozy beams tickled his peds. It was warm, very warm, he couldn’t help but smiled at the feeling, sure he could finally feel his peds again, but it was the warmth curled around his servo that really made him smile. Thunderclash vented and stretched, he winced as the slight aches and stinging pains across his whole frame, he took a few moments to let the new welds settle, then turned to his servo.

Another servo wrapped around his, it was smaller, he knew this servo, traced it with his own digits, traced it with his lips. Rodimus would squirm when he kisses the warm blam of his servo. Thunderclash turned towards the curled up figure of Rodimus, the speedster’s knees were pulled in, he hugged his legs and with dulls optics he stared out.

“Rodimus?”

The knight blinked and glanced over, his optics sluggish.

“Did you recharge at all?”

He shook his helm.

Thunderclash sat himself up, hissing, then turned towards the smaller. “Why?”

Rodimus vented and swallowed. “I-so much has changed, you’re back, but now I’m-I’m Kaon’s missing prince?” His engine sputtered.

He reached down, only to stop as Rodimus flinched at his servo, Thunderclash let his servo drift down. Rodimus wasn’t ready for that, not yet. “I know that feeling, the responsibility, the stress-

“I’m no prince.”

His spark softened and Thunderclash knelt down next to Rodimus, resting his helm against the knight’s side. “No, but you’re a leader, and a pretty good one.”

He laughed. “How am I going to tell my-Deadlock? Nevermind Megatron and Optimus?”

“Do you want to tell them?”

Rodimus opened hin in take, then shut it, he vented and his grip tightened on Thunderclash’s servo. “I should, I know that King Megatron deserves to know, they all should but, how do I tell them?”

Thunderclash hummed. “Why not tell who you’re closest with? Tell Optimus?”

Rodimus shook his helm. “N-no, I don’t think Optimus wouldn’t turn around and tell Megatron, who at first would be happy, but then punch him again. I could tell Deadlock? Then I guess I could tell my creators after we uhhh…”

“Violently murder Overlord?”

Rodimus laughed, looking up at him. “Yea, after we do that.” A warm servo cupped Thunderclash’s cheek, and Rodimus’ optics softened. “How are you feeling?”

The prince vented, staring at those untamed optics, his frame may ache, his helm might feel like it was full of oil, but Primus, there was nothing wrong with his spark. “I’m, my spark is alright, the rest of me is catching up.”

The knight rolled his optics. “Not exactly a way to describe your frame, do you think we can make it to Iacon?”

He nodded. “I think so, the welds are holding.” The outside of the cave was quiet, they were the first to wake up. In the pale morning skies he saw the trails of thick black and white smoke, his home was under attack. 

* * *

The group slowed to a stop, the sun was starting to rise again, once more they settled on traveling at night and resting during the day cycle. Ratchet instantly rushed over to Thunderclash, checking the welds. Chromedome and Rewind settled, Chromedome didn’t mind the smaller mech hitching a ride with him. While Optimus kept to himself, he tried to put as much distance between him and Megatron, who was the slowest. Deadlock shifted into his root mode as Brainstorm landed, bickering with Chromedome.

“Hey Roddy.” Deadlock clapped a servo on Rodimus’ shoulder, the prince stared at Optimus and then Megatron, his helm fins sunk down. “One pit of a party eh?”

“We just wanted to go to a dance, and well.” He gestured to everything. “We uh, kinda brought the house down.”

Deadlock laughed. “Imagine what would happen if we went to a wedding? Maybe we might find out what happened to my spark split twin?”

The knight wheezed, and doubled over laughing. “Deadlock!”

The prince stared down at Rodimus with concern. “Roddy?”

Rodimus fell on his aft and patted the sand next to him, he took a few moments to cycle and blink away tears. “So,” He vented, unable to stop grinning, “This is going to be fragging funny. But Chromedome told me that several cycles ago, Overlord brought me into his tent, and I was only a bitlet at that time.”

Deadlock stared at him, his face unreadable.

“Hey Ratchet, can I steal you for a moment?” Rodimus asked.

The medic grumbled and closed up Thunderclash’s plates, Hatchet made his way over, rubbing his lower back. “What?” He snapped.

“Am I-uh- could I be his twin?” Rodimus pointed at Deadlock.

Ratchet grinned. “Yea, in fact, I kinda figured you were.”

“What?” Both Deadlock and Rodimus said, their intake falling open.

The white and red frame sunk down into a seating position, he pulled a cube out of his subspace and sipped it slowly. “I knew you were Optimus-Orion’s creation from the moment he brought you in. You were fighting the whole time, you kicked and broke Optimus’ optic, I suspected you went through some trauma. He cleaned you and- well you fell into recharge, Primus you were starving and Thunderclash snuck a lot of sweet to you. But when you’ve seen a creator meeting their creation for the first time? It’s almost always the same.” Ratchet leaned back, putting his servos behind him. “Optimus wouldn’t let you out of his sight, we had to put a new optic in (which is very painful and hard to do when the mech is online) he stayed up all night cycle watching you.”

Deadlock gawked, he glanced at Ratchet, then at Rodimus. “Why didn’t you tell him? Optimus? Rodimus?”

Ratchet hummed. “Well we figured that Optimus knew? I mean he either knew, or he once had creations of his own? So we just didn’t say anything.” He shrugged. “I mean, Rodimus runs hot, you run cold, normal split spark twins.”

“So-” Rodimus started only to have Deadlock pull him into a tight hug.

“I knew, I knew you couldn’t be dead.” Deadlock wiggled and hugged Rodimus tighter.

Rodimus smiled, for once in his life he felt a part in his spark fill, a part he didn’t even notice was missing. “Yea, yea, I told you so. Funny, you were raised by our carrier and I was raised by our sire.”

“Optimus…” Deadlock gave his-their sire a glare, his arms uncurling from Rodimus’ chassis.

“Don’t be hard on him, true, he did leave, but he was scared, Optimus thought he was doing what was right. Sure his actions prevented you from having a sire, but if he wasn’t in Iacon, then you might not have a brother.” Ratchet soothed, he pulled Deadlock into a hug.

“For someone who renamed themselves ‘Optimus’ he’s not very optimistic.” Deadlock grumbled.

“But he’s a good sire, when Rodimus came in starving he often gave him adult portions, that did lead to Rodimus’ chubby phase.” Ratchet teased.

He felt his cheeks burn. “So, I was starving.” He snapped.

Ratchet’s engine started and he rubbed Deadlock’s helm. “I’m not telling you what to do, but I don’t want you to villainize your sire.”

“Heh, well this really is one pit of a dance.” Deadlock relaxed. “Rodimus, do you want me to tell them?”

He took a moment, sparing a glance at Optimus who stayed in his alt mode, then to Megatron who already settled for a rather warm recharge. The whole camp between the two of them, the two creators might as well be kingdoms away. His spark ached, he could see them together, how they might’ve raised them. Megatron had his walls, and Optimus kept his distance. “No, not yet. I’d like to deal with Overlord first, but could you tell them? Or we could tell them together?” 

His brother grinned at him, fangs flashing. “Sure, one world shattering problem at a time. I honestly should’ve seen it before, most of the time it’s like looking into a mirror.”

“Where’s Spitfire?” Megatron asked, glancing around the camp.

Rodimus perked up, he scanned around the frame. “Oh, he’s hunting, or patrolling, he would do this when we didn’t have a lot of energon, or when I was hurt.”

Megatron nodded. “He’s a smart fox.”

“He is.” Rodimus spotted the fox on the horizon, holding what looked like to a petrol rabbit. “Yea he caught something, but he’s making his rounds first. This one time he told me when there was a trap, saved my ped.”

The king vented, his red optics trailed to Optimus, then to Thunderclash, the two of them were deep in recharge. He slowly sat down next to Rodimus, the two of them watched the small speck of fox trot towards them. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure?” Rodimus stared at his carrier, but kept his intake shut, now wasn’t the time. Overlord’s violent murder first, then the whole ‘hey I’m your missing son that Overlord kidnapped’.

“Why’d you do it?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you travel across the desert, face spark eaters, and climb a mountain for him?” The king asked, his red optics were not on the prince, but on the truck former who still was in his alt mode. 

Rodimus saw through it, he could almost see inside his carrier’s helm.  _ He wants to know if he should forgive Optimus/Orion? _ The knight licked his lips, sipping his cube. “I didn’t really think about it at the time, honestly I was debating on just fixing him and leaving him to deal with whatever happened. Let Overlord have him, or throw him at Iacon. But I saw how much pain he was in, that the mech I was dealing with wasn’t the Thunderclash I knew.”

“So why did you do all this?”

“I guess,” He glanced down at his cube, swirling the pink fuel around and around. “I knew he would do the same for me, might’ve planned it out a bit better, but he would pull the same risks. If I was a prince, and I was being puppeteered, he would’ve kidnapped me and well did what I did, or might’ve just told the king and thrown Overlord out?”

Megatron’s optics softened and he tapped his digits on his leg. “He raised you didn’t he?”

“Yea, he did. He was pretty good at it, Ratchet can vouch.”

The king slowly rose up to his peds. “I need some time to think, but thank you Rodimus. When this is all over I hope you keep in touch.”

The knight watched his carrier cross the camp and settle back into his own makeshift berth, but he didn’t recharge, he only stared out at the pale purple sky.

* * *

The sun was starting to set and Thunderclash wiggled his peds, making sure he could still feel them. Pleased with the stretch he stood up shaking sand out of his frame, Ratchet said that he should get a good soak once they reach Iacon, and didn't want to infect any welds. But for now Thunderclash felt fine, sure a bit sore and a few aches here and there, but he was fine.

The turbo fox, Spitfire, yapped and ran over to him, carrying a petrol rabbit in his jaws, he placed his front paws on Thunderclash’s knee and wagged his tail.

“Uh?” He glanced up at Rodimus.

“Take it, he’s worried about you, he’s trying to nurse you back to health.” Rodimus stepped over, taking the rabbit, in a fast move he removed the outer plating, leaving a hollow sock of plating. He tossed it to Spitfire who instantly ran around with it and started to chew it up. “There, and just the fuel tanks and the main line.” He bit into the main line and handed it to Thunderclash.

The prince reset his optics, but took it. “Do I?”

“Go ahead, drink it, it’s already filtered, tastes a bit funny but hey Spitfire says you need fuel.”

He did, he sucked the energon out of the rabbit, his plates shivered but the extra fuel was rich and it settled his tanks. “It’s out.” He handed the rabbit back to Rodimus.

“Just about.” Rodimus finished it off. “Must’ve been a plump one, he was hunting for a while, would’ve made good iron stakes.” He butched the rabbit and stored what was left in his subspace.

“Huh, who taught you that?”

“Optimus did, remember all those camping trips?” Rodimus leaned against him, his engine slowing to a comfortable pace. “Spitfire likes you a lot, I mean he likes everyone, but besides me, you’re the only one he’s brought fuel to. You should’ve seen him, he was patrolling, making sure you were safe.” He snorted, proudly watching the turbo fox chew on his meal. 

Thunderclash slipped an arm around Rodimus, his own spark almost spinning with happiness as Rodimus didn’t flinch away. “I take it you told Deadlock?”

“Yea, and Ratchet confirmed it too, so we’re not soo forbidden, heh, kinda takes a bit of the fun out of it?”

He had to chuckle at that. “In a few ways yes, but there’s other things we can try do that are pretty frowned upon.”

“Like what?”

“I could kiss you, and not just a quick peck, I mean I could kiss you for what seems like a whole cycle. Passionately make out while talking about trade routes with other kingdoms. And I know exactly what you’d like to do, play that game of aft slap tag, but instead of my quarters we have the whole kingdom. I’m afraid my aft isn’t going to be safe.”

Rodimus laughed, it was light and fluffy. “That would put Iron Hide into a comma and you know it.” he grinned, a lusty look settled in his optics. “We could do other things, maybe something so scandalous that all of Iacon will hear about it. Maybe in the open?”

“You mean build a pillow fort?”

“OH you know there’s going to be a pillow fort!”

He didn’t try to stop the deep laugh that made his sides hurt, Thunderclash grinned so hard the sides of his intake hurt. Rodimus was chuckling at the idea, knowing him there would be a castle wide pillow fort. The knight, prince, Rodimus leaned against Thunderclash, one servo finding Thunderclash’s servo, and his engine rumbled comfortably. 

“I can’t wait to murder Overlord.” Rodimus mumbled.

“It’ll be a fun couples bonding activity,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so close to getting this darn fic done, so FUCKING close.  
I wanna post other fics, I really want to post some other Rodiclash fics, but I might give this ship a short break, I got some one shots to throw out.

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I wouldn't write this until I finally updated another fic, you know like a liar.  
Cotten-eyed joe is no more, I burned his house down.


End file.
